If You Love Me Right
by StumblingAlong
Summary: AU OutlawQueen: Regina Mills made a vow, nearly five years ago, when the man she loved died: She was forsaking love and relationships. So when her friends coerce her into attending a male strip club, why does a dancer, nicknamed "The Outlaw", make her question everything she thought she knew? (OQ, ScarletQueen, SeaDevil, Rumbelle, Snowing, CaptainSwan.)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! So, this, as hopefully the summary appropriately informs, is an AU Robin and Regina fic. It takes place in modern day, no magic (at least not the kind we're used to, lol), etc. The story, as you'll gather, is about Robin being a male, exotic dancer (yes, a stripper) and how Regina comes into contact with him and then go from there. The idea for this fic actually came from the song "Talking Body" by Tove Love.**

**There will be many, many characters involved in this story, either having a large part or a small mention. Couples that will be featured, aside from OutlawQueen, obviously, include Will/Anastasia, Cruella/Ursula (yes, as a romantic pairing), Rumple/Belle, Charming/Snow, Hook/Emma, as well as a few others sprinkled about. Also, you will see where some characters names have either been altered (to fit with a non-fairy tale universe) or have nicknames (spoiler alert: the strippers!) but I'll let you figure them out as you go, hopefully they are easy/make sense.**

**Disclaimer: This is something written purely for fun. I do not own "Once Upon A Time", nor "Talking Body", nor any of the other songs, movies, television shows mentioned in this or any future chapter.**

* * *

Regina Mills doesn't hate men.

In fact, her love of men, well, one man, is the reason why she reached this point in her life, this decision about her life.

No love, no relationships, no men. Ever.

Her friends have told her this was a ridiculous notion. "Regina, you're too young to say you'll never be with someone again," Her friend, Greenlee, has insisted, ad-nauseum.

And it is true, Regina wouldn't deny that. She is only 28-years-old, some would argue that her best years were still ahead of her, plenty of time to find a new, in Green's words, "soulmate", have children, etc.

Regina knows better, though.

She already found a "soulmate", the great love of her life. His name had been Daniel.

They had met the first day of college, literally colliding at the packed orientation on the lawn outside of the university. She had muttered half-hearted apologies (after all, she was standing there, minding her business, waiting for Green to return with her much-needed cup of coffee when someone had fallen onto her, both tumbling to the ground), as she stood to her feet, but was rendered speechless when she looked at the perpetrator.

He had stolen her breath away. He was tall (6'2, to be exact), with a pale face that highlighted his navy-hued eyes. His hair was a similar dark-brown/nearly black color as hers, parted down the middle, spilling onto his forehead from both sides, giving him a boyish appearance, though it was clear Regina had just been knocked over by a man. _Welcome to college, indeed,_ she had thought.

Daniel had looked positively panicked, apologizing earnestly, asking if she were okay, picking up her books and the several maps (something he would later tease her mercilessly about- "Who needs four copies of the same map?" He'd ask, and she'd respond, "Well one ended up being trampled by dozens of dirty sneakers, thanks to you, so it was good planning") she had procurred of the campus.

"It's fine, honestly. No harm done," Regina had managed to say, tripping over her words, too enamored by the beautiful male speciman in front of her.

Then he smiled, a wide, toothy grin, again making him look younger than a college freshman, but endearing all the same.

Regina immediately had known she could look at that smile, every day, for the rest of her life.

Unfortunately, fate had other ideas. The "rest of her life" only being a measley five years. Five years, 60 months, more than 1,500 days, back then, had seemed like a lifetime. She vividly remembers Green berating Daniel, "Almost five years you've been dating my best friend, put a ring on it, dude!" and her college roommate, Malese, bringing home stacks of bridal magazines, "He's going to ask you soon! You should start planning now!"

She had found herself dropping hints to Daniel, as well. She'd point out the duration of their relationship, the fact that they were already living together (Nothing fancy, a simple, one bedroom that they had rented shortly after their graduation), and both had steady jobs, he as a veterinary technician, she as a paralegal at a law firm, as she continued to go to school for her law degree.

Regina had been impatient, anxious. She loved him, he loved her- why wait?

If only she could have those days of waiting back, she thinks, bitterly, as she twirls the simple band she wears on her ring finger.

He didn't propose to her. He never got the chance.

It was late December, a particularly bad winter for Illinois and certainly for Chicago, and the adjoining, smaller municipal that Daniel and Regina lived in, when she received the phone call. Daniel's mother, Julianne, barely able to choke out the words. Accident. Heart. _Gone_.

He had skidded, his tires, the ones of his beloved Chevy Silverado 1500 that Regina had told him needed replacing, admitting defeat immediately, causing Daniel to lose even more control and the truck, ultimately, rolling down the small revene off the highway- the one he was driving on to get to Regina. For the "special" dinner she had insisted he come home for, early and quickly. Just a stupid lasagna. One that ended up crashing against the wall in a fit of anger and grief and guilt.

He had died before the paramedics had arrived. The crash, along with several other traumas to his body, had sent him into cardiac arrest and, without the proper help in the window of time that was necessary, it proved to be fatal.

Daniel had died, on the side of the expressway, with snow falling and the wind chill dwindling and Regina and her damn lasagna at home. And a ring box in his pants pocket.

They had turned over his belongings, the one that were both found on the scene that were salvagable and the personal effects he carried with him, to Julianne. She, in turn, a sweet, soft-spoken woman whom only stood at 5'2, that had accepted Regina without a thought when Daniel had taken her to his home for Thanksgiving, freshman year, who insisted Regina call her "Ma", just as Daniel did, gave the ring to Regina.

Apparently, it wasn't a secret. Daniel had purchased the ring (a simple, gold band, with small diamonds encrusted around it- looking more like a wedding band than an engagement ring, but still impressive for Daniel's meager salary) two weeks beforehand, with the help of Green and Mal and, for a fellow man's opinion, his best friend, David. He had planned to take her to the quad of Northwestern University, where they had first met.

_Yes_, she would have said. _In a heartbeat_. But she never had the option, the universe didn't even give her the choice of what her answer would have been.

"He knows what you would've said, Regina," Green had consoled her friend, Regina's head in her lap, stroking her hair as Regina sobbed for days after the accident.

It was at the funeral when Regina had made her decision. When she conceded to Julianne who, barely able to make it through her eulogy, asked for her to come say a few words about the man she loved.

It was remarkable that she had been able to do it. Even to this day, Regina can't quite recall what she said. Except at the end of her soliloquy, when she shakily pulled her ring- _Daniel's ring_ \- from where it hung on a chain, around her neck, next to her heart, and slipped it onto her finger (how Daniel should've slipped it on, after asking, "Will you marry me?" and she answering with a tearful, over-joyed "Yes!"), announcing that she would love Daniel forever, that not even death could sever that.

And since then, Regina has never given another man a glance or thought.

Sure, she'd admire an actor on a TV show, here and there, or become infatuated with a literary hero, on the off chance she had the time to pick up a book for pleasurable reading, but that was it.

She has refused the concept of dating, has scoffed at any of her male co-workers at the office, where she held the position of Assistant District Attorney, that had the gall to admire her frame when she bent over to retrieve a fallen file, and hadhas always politely turned away any man that tried to make conversation on the "Girl's Nights" that Green and Mal, along with David's wife, Mary Margaret, insisted upon each month, usually at an upscale bar or a mediocre resturant.

Her elder sister, Lena, who had married a furniture store mogul, Walsh, earlier in the year, had made the mistake of using her wedding to pimp Regina out to Walsh's former frat house buddies, resulting in the sisters still not being on speaking terms.

So when Green, as a suggestion for the next Girl's Night, said a male strip club, Regina couldn't help but howl with laughter.

"You can't be serious," Regina had said, shaking her head at her friend over their FaceTime conversation, "A strip club?"

"A_ male_ strip club," Green emphasized, though Regina's expression must have contorted to one of similar disgust because she followed it up with, "Don't look at me like that, Regina! It'll be fun!"

"For who?" Regina had scoffed, not quite believing the discussion she was involved in. Green was in, no way, a pure, angelic fairy, though her appearance could fool anyone. Creamy ivory skin, golden, blonde curls that she regularly wore away from her face, and full, round, emerald eyes, a contrast to her thin, pale lips that had, in the process of this conversation, curved into a smirk.

"Regina, this is perfect for you," The blonde insisted, "You just look! It's like when you watch Jon Snow on 'Games of Thrones'."

Well, that was a low blow. Regina made another concrete life decision- never tell Green any innermost desire or thought she had, _ever again_.

"Except Jon Snow doesn't grind on me."

"I bet you wish he would." This comment was followed by light, slim-shaped eyebrows wagging dramatically.

Regina groaned, exhausted from just the thought of the outting, let alone the actual event, "How did you even come up with this?"

"Ruby, you remember her, right?" Oh, yes, Regina remembered Ruby, quite well. She was the friend Green had made when the two worked at a small diner, off-campus, during college. Ruby, who shortened every skirt she bought to a length that barely reached her mid-thigh and who had large, bright red streaks throughout her waist-long, brunette locks. She was a nice girl, a I-can-drink-you-under-the-table-then-dance-on-it type of girl, but a tad extreme for Regina's tastes. "She waitresses there on the weekends, she said she could get us in free!"

As if admittance to watch grown men (_Oh, God, how she hoped they were grown_, she had winced at the thought) thrust their pelvises and hear tightly-wound women screech, would be something Regina would even consider spending her money on.

"Regina, this could be fun. Stupid, mindless fun. Please?"

Regina wasn't unaware, she knew that in the four years that had passed since Daniel's death, she wasn't always the best company. She'd make excuses to not partake in silly, light activities, like karoke night with her co-workers or trying the newest and trendiest spa treatment with Mal. Even a typical Girl's Night had become an effort, usually resulting in near-cancellations and her friends, once or twice, appearing at her door and dragging her out of her high-rise, two-bedroom apartment.

She had become overly critical of how her time was spent, disturbingly like her mother, Cora.

Daniel and Regina had always mocked her mother, the stuffy, over-bearing woman who often domineered Regina's father, Henry, and always had a piece of "advice" for Regina, from "Darling, I thought the freshman fifteen was only for freshmen", or, "You know, your father's business associate, Leopold Blanchard, very respected, very wealthy, just finalized his divorce."

Cora Mills had never approved of Daniel, saying a man going into "nursing critters" has no place calling himself a doctor. "Regina, my dear, you could do so much better. Perhaps if you wore your hair out of your face more..."

She never outright told Regina she was happy Daniel died, but two months afterward, she was back to dropping names of men, twice her age, that were colleagues of Henry's.

"Queen of Hearts" was what Daniel had typically called her. Not because of the character in 'Alice in Wonderland', but because of the irony- her mother most certainly did _not_ have a heart.

And while Regina knew she was her mother's opposite in every way, the thought of sharing any similarity to her, including being a prude and bore, was jarring enough for her to spit out an unfiltered "Okay!" to Green's strip club suggestion.

Which was how Regina Mills, dressed in a red, simple frock with thick straps and a- for Regina, anyway- short hemline, that Mary Margaret had selected for her, commenting the color against her olive skin, and standing easily on her favorite black pumps, ended up here, standing outside in the warm, yet breezy May night, in a line with Green, Mary Margaret, Mal, her friend, from the office, Ella, and Ella's girlfriend, Ursula, in front of an establishment called "Gold's Body Shoppe."

"This is so exciting!" Mary Margaret, a woman with a round face, porcelain complexion, and her jet black hair cut in a flattering pixie cut, exclaims, clapping her hands together like a small child.

Mal, a lengthy woman (standing at, roughly, 6'4 in her five inch, Loubiton heels that her match her purple, off-the-shoulder, knee-length dress) with thin, stateusque legs, her skin, a faux bronze from the tanning beds that the girls constantly warned her of, glowing in light of street lamps, brushes a piece of her pin-straight, blonde hair, out of her face and grins, wickedly, "And how does that charming husband of yours feel about this excursion?"

The group of women all share a chuckle, Mary Margaret trying her darndest to look positively indignant, "David doesn't control me. I am perfectly free to enjoy a night out and appreciate a live show."

"So," Regina begins, crossing her arms across her chest, one hand still grasping the small, black satin clutch she carried, "If David wanted to go and appreciate the, what are we calling this?"

"'A live show'", Green mocks Mary Margaret, her fingers lifted into air quotes around the phrase.

"Ah, yes, _a live show_, at the Hooter's, a few miles from here, that wouldn't bother you?"

Mary Margaret gasps, "He would never!"

"My point, exactly," Mal reminds, a smirk teasing her plump, nude-painted lips.

Greenlee, donning a matching crop top and skirt, both a deep shade of jade, that accentuated her svelt, yet toned figure (owning a gymnastic studio, Wings, named after her high school nickname, would help a girl with that), turned to Ella, light-skinned, with sharp facial features highlighted by the sleek bob her dirty blonde hair was styled in, and Ursula, who had silky caramel skin, that enhanced her deep, chocolate brown eyes, and contrasted her honey-hued locks, that she had pulled back into a tight ponytail, while her bangs hung effortlessly in front, "I'm so happy you decided to join in!"

"When I heard Regina, of all people, was going to a strip club, I _had_ to see it. Especially her reaction," Ella gently bites at her colleague.

"Well, the entertainment certainly isn't your preferred type, is it?" Regina jests in return, winking at the woman in a black-and-white blocked designed dress. _No doubt imported from a high end boutique, _Regina thought_, nothing but the best for tristate area's premiere prosecutor._

Ursula holds up her hand, on the verge of giggling, "Girl, please. Admiring the human figure transcends all sexualities and genders."

"Is this about Usher again? I swear, you'd leave me for him quicker than he could say 'Yeah'," Ella quips, pursing her lips in mock irritation.

"Nonsense, honey," Ursula denies, her arm reeling her girlfriend of three years closer to her, "If I were to leave you for anyone, it'd be Angelina Jolie."

Everyone laughs, as Ella receives a quick kiss from her significant other, and Mal adding that Jolie in Disney's 'Maleficent' is "pretty damn sexy."

"I hope these guys are sexy," Green drawls, practically purring as they move up in the line.

"A little desperate for some inspiration, darling?" Ella snickers, causing Green to narrow her eyes.

"It hasn't been that long since Archie and I broke up, I'm just... curious, that's all."

"For a man who doesn't wear a t-shirt in the ocean? Yes, I would be, too," Mal adds underneath her breath.

Green glowers, pouting petulantly, "Archie was a nice guy."

"And by 'nice', you mean boring."

"Looks aren't everything, Mal!"

Mary Margaret places a hand on Green's shoulder, "Sweetie, I don't think that's what Mal was referring to. After all, you yourself said you broke up because he wouldn't doing anything spontenous."

"Archie was adorable on the outside, Greenie, but he was the human equivalent of Nyquil," Mal, never one to mince words, which was what makes her one of the best defense attorneys in Chicago, aptly nicknamed 'The Dragon', says.

Green throws her hands up, letting them hit her thighs with a short clap, "Fine. Okay, yes, he wasn't the most exciting guy, but it's better than the 'thrilling' assholes you date, Mal."

"Honey, I don't _date_," Mal grins, wide and suggestive. Green snorts.

"Oh yeah? Stefan."

Malese's face drops instantouesly and she turns her back to the group, facing the line ahead, "When the hell are we going to be let into this damn joint?"

Green harrumphs victoriously, then gently knocks Regina's hip with her own, "How about you? Excited?"

Now it's Regina's turn to snort, walking another few inches. Getting closer to the entrance, she thinks with a shiver of uncharacteristic nervousness.

"Come on, Regina," Comes the groan beside her, "It's just watching some guys dancing, it's not like you're getting married." Regina's head snaps in her friend's direction to find Green already wincing, "I'm sorry."

_Quit being so senstive, Mills_, a voice whispers inside of her and glancing at her fellow companions expressions, she can see they are all thinking it as well.

Sighing, she grabs Green's hand, trying not to notice the shiny gold band that hugs her left ring finger, "No, I'm sorry. I promised that I would try tonight and I will."

"Good!" Green grins, obviously ecstatic by this turn about, "Who knows, maybe it'll get your engines roaring again."

Regina releases a huff of laughter, rolling her eyes, "Let's not push it."

Soon, they are at the door, a man of large girth, with a pony tail and a name tag displaying "John" on it in bold type, allows the gang to pass and Regina's anxiety amps up.

* * *

_Nice._

That's the first thing Regina, surprisingly, shocking herself, thinks based on a cursory glance.

After entering, they find themselves in a large room, containing a bar the length of the room at one end, shelves upon shelves of bottles adorning the wall behind the bar. On the other end of the space appears to be a coat-check, an unexpected feature, if not unnecessary for the blistering Illinois summer approaching, Regina muses.

In the center are two billards table, one occupied by two women, one with flaming red hair (_Not unlike my sister's_, Regina can't help but bitterly note) and another, this one with blonde curls, much like Green's.

In fact, the place is thriving with energy. Several people, men and women, sit at the bar, while a woman, one with a high-pitched giggle, from what Regina can hear, talks animatedly with the coat check clerk.

It's dark, only the illuminated bar, one that appears to be carved from cherry hardwood (_Oh my god!_), adding light to the room, but it works. It works with the darkly painted walls, and the shiney gold accents strewn about the room, and the cherry hardwood surfaces. _How does a strip club have money for such exspenses_, Regina wonders.

Speaking of...

"So, where are the men?" She asks Green in a hushed tone, a good idea considering Green turns to her with her teeth chewing her bottom lip, failing to camoflauge a knowing smirk.

"Not dreading this evening anymore?"

Regina groans, she should have kept her comments to herself.

"Green!" An enthusastic voice calls and Regina glances around the room, spotting Ruby, no longer wearing bold, red stripes in her hair, but wearing a short, black dress that she can't possibly bend over in, who is waving with gusto. "I'm so glad you came!"

Regina follows the pack, walking closer to the waitress. Mal, Mary Margaret, and Green hug Ruby, then she looks expectantly at Regina. "It's been so long!"

Regina finds herself pulled into a bone-crushing embrace. _Alcohol tolerance must not be her only strength_, a part of her snickers.

"It's good to see you, Ruby," Regina croaks, finally wiggling out of the hug, patting down the front of her dress for any wrinkles. She then glances behind her, arms vaguely gesturing, "Ruby, these are our friends, Ella and Ursula."

"More the merrier," Ruby chirps, offering the women a warm smile, "Come on, I'll take you guys to where the real magic happens." Her smile turns to a smirk, eyebrows raising and lowering conspiritorially.

Regina exchanges confused looks with the other women, then Ruby opens a door that Regina had yet to notice. They follow her in and...

"Wow," She breathes, eyes drawn everywhere, all at once.

It's a larger room- the word 'humungous' pops into mind- from what, Regina concludes, must've just been the waiting area, that they were previously in.

This area has a large stage (_cherry hardwood, again!_) that looks like it was meant to put on Broadway musicals, not men in bananahammocks. And, at least, a dozen, round tables, with black tableclothes covering each and every one, in front of said stage.

Gold, as in the waiting area, drips from unexpected accents, like the rim of the stage and studs in the arms of the black (_Is that leather?_) chairs that surround the tables.

Though, the most impressive sight, has to be the ceiling. It's curved, like you would see in a dome, and comprised of what appears to be a gold, metalic material.

Regina can see her reflection, clearly, from, what she can only assume, is the 25 foot distance between her and ceiling. It truly is magnificient.

"Isn't it great?" Ruby looks over her shoulder at the gang she leads, "If you think this is spectacular, wait until you see the merchandise."

Ah, the forgotten fact that this is a _strip club_.

_Well, at least it looks clean_, Regina thinks with a shrug.

Ruby sits them at a table ("Right up front, you're welcome!"), handing them each a small menu, displaying special cocktails and the club's assortment of appetizers ("The bar is also fully stocked, you can literally order anything.")

Everyone orders, a white wine spritzer for Mary Margaret, a peach Daquari for Green, vodka on the rocks for Mal, a dirty, gin Martini for Ella, one of the house specials, a Bloody Mary with the addition of seaweed and sea salt, with some ridiculous name, for Ursula, and a glass of Cabernet for Regina, earning her disapproving shakes of the heads.

"What?" Regina asks, snaps, the edge of her voice even coming as a surprise to her.

"Red wine? Way to let loose, Reg," Mal jokes with a roll of her eyes once Ruby has left to fulfill their orders.

Regina ignores her, ignores all five of their critical glances, because she is not some college girl looking to get wasted and rowdy, wasn't even that girl when she was actually in college, and instead busies herself, her stare shifting about the room.

It's packed. Nearly every table filled by an assortment of women, a few men sprinkled throughout, filling the space with chatter and the slurping of alcoholic beverages.

"You'll be fine," She hears, suddenly, in her ear, turning to her right where mary Margaret sits with a gentle smile etched on her face, one Regina assumes she uses when speaking to her young students, at the local elementary school- one that Regina does _not_ need.

"I_ am_ fine," Regina hisses, drumming her fingers against the tablecloth. _Silk, unbelievable._

Mary Margaret scoots her chair a hair closer to Regina and, thankfully, the other four at the table are too engulfed in conversation to notice, "Regina, it's okay to look at other men, to be attracted to other men. That's not a dishonor to Daniel's memory."

Regina keeps her head turned to the right, eyes locked on the stage, pretending like Mary Margaret and her comforting, but unsolicited words are noneexistent, in hopes she will stop.

It doesn't work. "It's been four years, Regina, almost five. And Green was right earlier. No, you are not committing to any of the men you'll see tonight, but you also don't have to ignore or deny any attraction you may feel. You can't dissuading your feelings simply because-"

"You think that's what I am doing? 'Dissuading' feelings?" Regina demands, her voice barely audible, yet the quivering of a shaky Mary Margaret's bottom lip tells Regina she hear her perfectly. "I haven't felt anything for anyone since Daniel. If I had, then, yes, I would push it down because I had love and he's gone and I have suffered. But do not think that any living, breathing male has inticed me and I have simply turned it down."

The anger she feels coursing through her veins starts to dissolve and she blinks several times, reigning back the moisture she feels stinging below the surface, "My body is wired to want _one_ man, and he is in the ground. So, yes, I am just fine, Mary Margaret."

And with that, she returns her stare, one a bit wetter than before, to the stage.

Ruby brings their drinks, another waitress, Ashley, as Ruby introduces her, helping her so no cocktails were split between the bar and the table.

Nursing her wine brings Regina some relief. The smooth, but biting flavor invading her senses and warming her belly, spreading a feeling of contentment within her.

"Ruby, can we also get six shots of tequila over here?"

"Green!" Mary Margaret scolds, stealing a peek at Regina, obviously still bruised from her previous, verbal hiding.

Ursula, raising her Bloody Mary, "I think that is a terrific idea!", to which Mal and Ella concur.

"Coming right up," Ruby winks, sashaying back to the location of the bar.

"The show starts in a few minutes, you guys made it just in time," Ashley, a young woman that barely looks old enough to enter the club, let alone wait on tables, smiles, flipping the shoulder-length blonde hair cascading down her right side to her opposite. "Enjoy."

Ruby carrying a tray of filled shot glasses, as well as a bowl of limes, comes back to the table, doling out the shots, "Have fun, gals. Salt shaker on the table!"

Green, Ella, Ursula, and Mal take turns with the salt dispenser and then look at Regina and Mary Margaret expectantly.

"Don't make us hold your jaws open, darlings," Ella warns.

Regina lolls her head in Mary Margaret's direction, receiving a sheepish shrug. _If the "old, married" one of the group is doing the shot, surely you can,_ a voice inside Regina urges.

"Fine," She groans, reaching for the tequila shot, then pouring a generous amount of salt of her hand.

"To a night of pliancy, pleasure-"

"And penises!" Mal crudely interrupts Green's toast, earning her several incredulous laughs and hushed reprimands, "What? Were we not going for alliteration? I felt it appropriate."

"To the P's!" Regina manages to say with a generous amount of enthusiasm.

All of the women lick the salt off their hands, throw back the tequila in the glasses, then reaching to the center of the table, scrambling for a wedge of line that they can suck.

Mary Margaret coughs, removing the piece of fruit from her mouth, "Wow. It's, _urmph_, been a long time since I have done that."

Green giggles from her place across the table, "Your wedding, actually."

"I suppose you're right," Mary Margaret agrees with a nod, a slight frown twisting at her lips as Regina can see her trying to remember the precise time she had last done a shot.

"You would've had a ball," Mal tells Ella and Ursula, one finger pointing at Mary Margaret, "For such an uppity couple, the Nolans threw one helluva party."

"Well, that was after Regina crashed the actual ceremony," Mary Margaret teases, then pouts, "And we are _not_ 'uppity'!"

Regina smiles fondly at the memory, casting her eyes downward, at her barely touched Cabernet. "I didn't crash, I was just late, which I apologized for!"

David and Mary Margaret, sweethearts since middle school or high school, Regina could never remember, married during sophomore year of college. Very young, yes, but it wasn't a marriage that anyone objected to. David's father, George Nolan, and Mary Margaret's father Leopold Blanchard (_Yes, Cora Mills wanted her daughter to pursue a man who fathered one of her peers,_ Regina remembers with a shiver of disgust) paid for a lavish ceremony, that Regina swore the majority of campus attended. Daniel was David's best man and, as such, had to be at the church early. Regina, on the other hand, was merely a guest and arrived separately, but had gotten lost. Resulting in a flustered Regina, busting through the doors of the church... in the middle of the vows.

Luckily, it had been something everyone had laughed off, Daniel had even asked, "Are you going to be late to our wedding someday?"

And just like that, the smile slips from Regina's lips.

Luckily for Regina, the girls session of reminiscing is interrupted by the the entire room falling into a state of pitch black.

"Ooh, it must be starting!" Regina hears Green gasp, excitement flooding her breathless voice.

Suddenly a spotlight emerges in the center of the stage. A man, around the age of 50, if Regina had to venture a guess, walks into the light, the cane he is holding onto, in his left hand hitting, the wood with a sharp "tap" with each step.

He has long hair, shoulder-length, but it doesn't take away from his intimidating presence, one Regina can feel from a few feet away. He wears a dark suit (_Charcoal? Navy? It's hard to decipher from just the spotlight_) atop a dark shirt, both perfectly matching his small, dark eyes that scan the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening," He begins to speak- Regina swears she feels Mary Margaret flinch- his voice, heavily accented, clear and booming throughout the area, "And welcome to Gold's Body Shoppe."

"Thank you for attending tonight, dearies. I am Mr. Gold, owner of this establishment, and our goal here is to provide you with fun, entertainment, and, just maybe, a little bit of magic."

Regina rolls her eyes unabashedly. Magic? It's half-naked men on a stage, not wizards at Hogwarts. _There will be absolutely no "magic" to be found in any of this._

He holds his free hand up, pointer finger raised, and, unexplicably, his gaze finds Regina's, "But, remember, all magic comes with a _price_."

She shivers involuntarily and averts her eyes quickly, uncomfortable under the man, Mr. Gold's, intense stare._ He couldn't have found another section of the audience to look at when saying that?_

She returns her eyes to the stage in time for him to smile, spreading his look to the whole of the audience again. "So, please, tip our terrific dancers, if you can."

"And now, onto our show!"

The room darkens, then the stage illuminates again, but Mr. Gold is gone. In his place, is a motorcycle.

"I already like where this is going," Mal leans over and whispers to Regina, then finishes her tumblr of vodka.

An unseen voice erupts throughout the room, roaring, "Speeding into your hearts first, give it up for The Biker!"

A man, to the chorus of screams and whistles, a few originating at Regina's table, struts onto stage, wearing a leather jacket and tight dark-wash jeans, both of which he proceeds to slowly strip himself of to the tune of Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive."

_It's going to be a long night_, Regina sighs.

Next up is a man named "The Fire", one that Green, in particular, seems to be fond of judging by her whooping and hollering. He, aptly, blazes through the audience, unlike "The Biker", who stayed on stage, and ends his tease in a flame-painted speedo, on the table top of one of the neighboring groups of women.

"The Sherriff"- complete with handcuffs, "The Gentleman"- complete with a top hat (_the only thing that stays on_, Regina notes after she watches the man finish his strip near the exit stage, his bare rear the last thing shown), "The Miner"- complete with a faux, smokey dirt etched onto his skin, and "The Fisherman"- complete with an actual fishing pole that he puts to use by going into the audience, "reeling" a blushing a young woman up on stage, and giving her a lap dance, all follow.

It's not as if Regina can't see their appeal. They aren't _bad_ looking men. But it's nothing "magical" as Gold boasted about prior to the show beginning.

Clearly she is alone in this opinion as the audience goes wild with every piece of clothing shed, even her friends. "Show us the goods!" Mal shouted at "The Gentleman", Green kept repreating "Did you see him?!" with half-hooded eyes and the slightest hint of drool after "The Fire's" act concluded, Ella and Ursula kissed after they both shoved a few dollar bills in the g-string of "The Sherriff", and even Mary Margaret was flushed and fanning herself with her hand when another dancer, "The Warrior", licked his prop sword.

Regina opens her clutch as that particular section ends, glaring at the time her phone shows her. _10:50 p.m._

It has been nearly two hours of this ruckus and boredom, a finale not looking to be in sight. Unfortunately, she couldn't leave, like she wished she could. She had gotten a ride from Mal, one that she was now regretting as her former roommate sits on the edge of her seat, awaiting the next stripper.

The telling sound of the announcer's microphone clicking on is heard and Regina mumbles a sarcastic "Great!", pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Don't let his good looks fool you all, this man may very well _steal_ your heart. Let's hear it for The Outlaw!"

George Thorogood's "Bad to The Bone" thrums to life over the stereo and Regina reluctantly glances at the stage, sheer curiousity and a lack of Wi-Fi as the cause.

Her breath hitches. Her mouth goes dry. Her cheeks inflame. Her pulse races.

Her stomach drops.

"The Outlaw", a man dressed in the costume of an olden-period bandit, had dropped the hood of his outfit and he was gorgeous. Even more so than Jon Snow.

And she was _attracted_ to him.

Then he looks up and as if an act of _magic_, his eyes, a piercing blue that reminds Regina of looking into a cloudless sky or a prestine ocean, lock onto hers.

He stills and Regina feels her world follow suit, like they are the only two people left in the room.

Something about his eyes, his gaze on her, has her body contradicting itself, feeling both relaxed, yet with every hair standing on end.

This man, for God's sakes, this _stripper_, has Regina's heart rapidly pounding on the confines of the structure that surrounds it. It hadn't even done that when she had met Daniel.

She is attracted to this "Outlaw" and, not just that, she feels a _connection_ to him.

Her tongue slid out, wetting her lips with any moisture that it has managed to retain after her mouth had been hanging slightly open. Her hands fidgeting in her lap as she squirms in her seat. Yet her eyes never leave his, nor do his leave hers.

Another screech from the crowd seems to startle him back into the present moment as Regina observes him giving his head a quick shake, his brow furrowing, then he is...

_Oh my god._

If Regina had thought his head, his strong jawline, his thick stubble coating the lower portion of his face, his lightly tanned, smooth skin, his eyes, his pale brown, short and tussled hair, were enough to stop her beating heart,

The Outlaw's body was the catalyst for a flatline.

He slowly removes the top portion, tossing it effortlessly to the side in beat with the stuttering "B-b-b-b-b-bad" playing in the backround, revealing a toned abdomen, the slightlest patch of hair kissing his chest, and his bulging arms that flex underneath the bright lights above the stage.

The cheers grow and, a very uncharistically loud, Mary Margaret raises her pinkies to her lips, a sharp whistle assulting Regina's ears.

Then he begins to descebd the stairs of the stage, coming onto the floor.

_Oh no_, something whispers inside Regina, her palms dampening with sweat.

Then she finds his eyes again, or, rather, he seeks out hers, a bewildered smile, as if he is overjoyed, yet confused to, what? See her?

And he has _dimples_. Dimples the size of craters trapping his pearly white teeth between them. _Oh, what is this man doing to her?_

He is stalking towards her, she can feel it in his gaze, even without seeing his legs, still, absurdly, covered, slowing walking her direction.

Then he is in front of her, looking down at her from her place in her chair. She can vaguely hear Green yelling "Get it, Regina!" and sees out of the corner of her eye the flash of a camera phone, probably Ella's, but other than that, it's back to two.

Just Regina Mills and the one dubbed "The Outlaw."

Suddenly his open hand is in front of her, drawing her attention towards it, then back to his face. Regina is flummoxed. _What does this mean_?

Then he offers her a smile. It's different this time. The dimples are still there- _oh, those dimples_\- but it's warmer, inviting. His eyes are questioning, like toeing into a body of water to figure out the temperature.

He's welcoming her to touch him. Or asking if he can touch her. Either way, he's asking for her permission first.

Who knew an "Outlaw" had honor?

She lifts her hand timidly, but confidently, without thinking, slips it into his own. He squeezes it softly, sending a bolt of electricity throughout her body. Then he takes it and places it on his stomach. She can feel every rippling muscle below her palm.

Stealing a glance upwards, Regina watches while her hand travels downward. She notices him swallowing hard at her movement and he bends to a small gasp as she grips the waistband of his trousers.

His own hands slide to the sides of his pants, and he effectively rips them off, dropping them carelessly on the floor, and now he is naked except for black boxer briefs that Regina's hand had snuck to, yanking on them to bring him even closer.

He bites his lip and she can help but envy his teeth at that very moment.

She drinks him in, head to toe, a magnetic force making her feel her body humming to life with every shared breath between them.

But then the world, this one where it was just her and this alluring Outlaw, crashes down.

And her heart plummets from the place he had raised it to.

The hand holding the seam of his underwear is her left hand and she can now, explicitly see her ring.

Daniel's ring.

She just _betrayed_ Daniel. _Her one, true love_.

It's as if a tight vice is around her throat, constricting her airways and her stomach churns with the sickening realization of dishonoring her almost-fiancee turning to bile, for that she is sure.

Using the same hand, she roughly pushes "The Outlaw" back, trying to push down the spike of panic she feels when he stumbles backwards, and she is on her feet and running, as fast her her heeled feet will take her, out of the room.

"Bad to the bone," She hears in the distance, as she permits the first tear to finally drop onto her cheek._ Bad, indeed_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! Long time, no update! My apologies! Firstly, I want to thank anyone and everyone who read, favorited, followed, and, especially, reviewed Chapter 1. You honestly have no idea what it means to me. I am a painfully self-conscious fangirl who was TERRIFIED to post any of my writing, so to have y'all embrace it and be so kind has been a huge blessing and, as cheesy as it sounds, has truly made my day over and over again. I'm really grateful and I hope y'all continue to like this story! I have really loved writing it so far.**

**Special shout out to one of my current favorite fanfic writers Mademoiselle Arel ! I cannot believe you read my crappy writing (compared to yours!) let alone reviewed! I appreciate it so much! And I promise to try and work more on my tenses, it's always been my kryptonite when it comes to my writing.**

**That goes for everyone, too. I really apologize for any mistakes in my writing. I try the best I can with this un-beta'd mess I call my fanfic. LOL. I just hope y'all can manage to overlook any small ones and hope I improve the more I post.**

**Also, each chapter will flip back and forth between Robin and Regina, so, without further ado, let me introduce you to If You Love Me Right's Robin...**

* * *

Robin Locksley hadn't planned on becoming an exotic dancer, a stripper.

That hadn't exactly been the plan when he moved to the United States, from Northeast London, to attend Stanford University, a decade ago. No, what he intended to do was graduate Stanford, with his Bachelor's degree in Environmental Systems, then find a job that sustained an American lifestyle, while also saving the Earth's forests and ecosystems.

He had, indeed, graduated from Stanford, with that very degree, but he also left the university with something, he thought, was more valuable- a wife.

It wasn't a fairytale romance by any means (_That should've been the first clue_, Robin, now, thinks bitterly), it wasn't love at first sight or a stroke of destiny. It certainly was not what he had pictured when he had thought about falling in love, as a simple boy in Ilford, listening to his parents, childhood sweethearts, talk about how they met in kindergarten and "that was that."

Robin had met his future wife, Marian, at a fraternity party during his first year in California. Robin hadn't been a "frat" kind of a guy, nor a big partier. He had always preferred the quiet company of nature, of sitting against the bark of a tall tree while studying ways to preserve such natural beauty, but his roommate, Alan, had convinced him that he was in need of some fun and what 19-year-old would turn down the opportunity of free, accessible booze?

He had entered the house, immediately put off by the smoke assaulting his lungs, the rank mixture of smells attacking his nose, and the blaring, wall-shaking music deafening his ears. But he had followed Alan, anyways, and they made their way to the keg outside, past his fellow students grinding on the make-shift dance floor to Usher's "Yeah".

He never got his beer, though.

Instead, he ended up discovering an absolutely smashed young woman, yelling and screeching, as a man held her wrists, yanking her in the direction he had been wanting to walk in. The girl was obviously drunk, very, very drunk, but she was loudly resisting the man's plans and Robin had had no intention of allowing an assault to occur if he could stop it.

He had managed to get the man to release his forceful grasp on the woman, who had slurred out her name, but not without engaging in a short fisticuffs with the brute, ending with the man on the ground, his nose bloodied, Robin's knuckles throbbing, and Marian vomitting into a planter. He had stumbled over to her, just in time to catch her as she passed out, unconscious. He'd managed to find one of her friends, thankfully sober, who led him, as he carried her across campus to her dorm. Depositing her into her bed, and in the care of her friend, he, then, had left with no intention of seeing her again.

Intentions never quite work out for Robin.

Marian had tracked him down, to thank him for his assistance that night and they struck up a friendship. She was attractive, a pretty girl when her caramel skin wasn't dewy with sweat, her raven, curly hair wasn't frizzy from the Silicon Valley's heat, and her soft, pink lips weren't covered in her stomach's regurgitations. Attractive, and funny, and passionate, she was only in school to appease her wealthy parents, a prominant plastic surgeon and well-established real estate broker, so they wouldn't monetarily cut her off for pursuing her dream of being an actress, working in entertainment.

They were very different, Robin and Marian, from two completely different upbringings with two utterly seperate life goals, yet they managed to fall in love and, in their senior year, shortly before graduation, they married in a small ceremony- one Marian's folks didn't approve of, but she had chosen him over her trust fund and he had found that romantic.

_What a fool_.

It was fine, for the first few years that is. After receiving their degrees, they relocated to Chicago for a job Robin had managed to retain with a respectable orginazation. Marian had gotten a job managing a local hotel chain, the best a basic business degree could procure at the time, and they had purchased a small three bedroom home after they learned they were unexpectedly expecting a child.

Roland was born on October 26, 2010, a bundle weighing 7 pounds, 8 ounces, wrapped in a blue blanket, changing Robin's life forever.

He had thought everything was perfect, aside from a few late nights at work and a bout of croup Roland had contracted as an infant. He loved his wife, adored his son, was content with his career, it was a great life.

Until Marian left.

Robin wasn't blind, nor daft. He had known Marian hadn't been as comfortable in their life as he had been, but he never imagined that one day, after he dragged himself home, desperate for a shower and dreaming of singing a lullaby to send a one-year-old Roland to his own dreams, that she would be waiting with their luggage- filled with _her_ luggage.

She said she met a man, one from New York, a few weeks ago, that she was in love with him. She had said, "I want to be on Broadway, not be behind a desk", and, "Robin, we both have known we have an expiration date." She didn't mention Roland, had seemed to forget about his existence in favor of this New York stranger.

Robin had let her go because he wasn't like that man he had saved her from at that freshman party years ago, he wouldn't force her to stay with him. She had kissed him on the cheek, muttering a pitiful "Goodbye", then left. Left him alone with tears burning his eyes and an infant upstairs crying from the sound of the door that slammed shut behind her.

Robin never heard from Marian again, except when he found she had emptied their joint bank account and when she sent him divorce papers. Then, _that was that_.

He had become an ex-husband and single father, in one fell swoop. He had then, a few months later, added "unemployed" to his list of new titles, when his company had laid him off. He was desperate. He had no longer had savings to fall back on, thanks to his lovely "wife", but he had a son to feed and nourish and protect and Robin would be damned if any setbacks for him would set back Roland.

So he found a quick, easy day job in construction. He had always been good with his hands, his father had been an amatuer carpenter when Robin was young, and it may not have been a "world saving" career, but it did save him from having his electricity cut off and that was enough.

Except, it hadn't been enough, not truly. Robin was still short on money, barely making the house payments every month and the expense of a babysitter every day was adding up. So his cousin, Will, and his wife, Anastasia, had moved across the pond, occupying the third bedroom of the his house, chipping in with such as the groceries and the water bill, as well as Ana babysitting Roland, for free, freeing up yet another expense.

Will had been looking for a job, one that would make enough money for a married, basic high school graduate at the ripe age of 23, when he stumbled across an old classmate, Cyrus, who was working under the name "The Genie" at a place called "Gold's Body Shoppe"- a strip club.

"Cy says they pay ya right good, Robin," Will had enthused, "Up'ta grand a week!"

"So you're going to be a stripper now?" Robin had chuckled, utterly amused.

Will had shaken his head in earnest, "Not me, mate- you."

He had told Robin that his cousin had the right body type for the job, that he was the one who desperately needed the extra cash, and, without Marian, he had no one to answer to about taking his clothes off for money.

It had been an absurd idea, Robin had told Will as much, but as he went to bed that night, he couldn't deny the tempting dollar signs rolling around in his head.

So he went to the Body Shoppe, met with the owners, with some of the fellows who danced there, and, suddenly, it had no longer been a ridiculous notion, it was a job.

A side job, just the weekend evenings, so he could spend Saturdays and Sundays with his son then sneak off to work when he was in bed, oblivious to the fact that his father took his clothes off for money. But Robin couldn't be ashamed when two night's worth of work equaled one month of the mortage, yet allowed him to keep a respectable, week-day job and still be a hands-on dadd.

Robin quite liked working at the Shoppe, in fact. The choreography was easy to memorize, he had become good mates with many of his fellow dancers, and the owners were diligent about the well-beings of their establishment, employees, and customers.

The customers had never been a problem, either. The women and men who attended were generally respectful (short of the occasional ass-grab), tipped well, and left laughing and smiling and giddy from the show he and his "coworkers" had put on (_Ironic how Marian left him for entertainment and he was now the one on the stage_, Robin often has mused), which, strangely, made Robin appreciative that he could bring a small amount of pleasure to people.

He, on the other hand, didn't derive pleasure from the people in the audience, not like a few of the others did. It wasn't as if the Shoppe didn't house a beautiful clientel. Many of the women who came to the shows were pretty, but dating, especially a customer, was never part of Robin's short-term plan.

He needs to stop making plans.

Tonight, the announcer's introduction begins, the lights turn on, and Robin's eyes befall upon the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen. She is sitting near the front, at a table full of women who are a helluva lot more enthusiastic than she is, a bored scowl resting on her plump, cherry-painted lips, one hand of long, slender fingers playing with the ebony, silklike hair that falls just past her shoulders, drawing Robin's stare to her (even sitting!) curvy, toned body, covered by a skin-tight red frock, except for her muscular legs, one crossing the other, the olive-hued skin seemingly shimmering under the cast off spotlight.

She looks up.

_Oh, god_.

Robin Locksley is in trouble.

She glances at the stage, her other hand falling from it's place on her nose (_Can a nose be sexy_, Robin asks himself, because she surely as the most beautifully constructed nose he's ever seen), and her eyes immediately discover his- deep, milk chocolate orbs, behind thick, dark lashes, that Robin swears are seeing straight into his soul.

It's not that she's simply physically stunning (_Stunning seems to be the only appropriate word to descibe her outer beauty that has stunned him into a gawking bafoon_, he observes), it's as if he's tethered to her. He feels a pull, an undeniable urge to go to her and ask her why she seems so unhappy amongst a group of fun-having people, why those stunning, brown eyes are darker than they should be, even under the dimmed audience lighting, and why, staring at him, she appears to have just seen a ghost- lips parted, eyes wide, body fidgeting with apprehension, as opposed to the typical arousal.

He mainly wants to ask her if she feels this _thing_, this connection, to him, too.

Too late, Robin realizes that this mystery woman has distracted him enough for him to miss his cue and the beginning of his choreography. _So much for his valued reputation as the one dancer to never miss his mark_, he scoffs at himself, ashamed.

But, with his eyes still locked in a maze of enamoring brown, he doesn't find the sense of shame lasting long.

He wants her. Plain and simple. Wants her body, and her mind, and her soul, and, my God, he hasn't even _spoken_ to this woman.

A loud (and at this particular moment, annoying) scream hails from the audience and he remembers he is supposed to be working, putting on a show.

Painfully, he tears his gaze away from hers, this woman in red, and begins to rotate his hips, rythmically moving to the music as he slowly peels off the top half of his costume.

But, instead of revelling in the cheers around him, his mind is wandering to her again.

And suddenly the distance, the time spent not looking at her, has gotten too great and his heart is pounding and his stomach is churning, he needs to look at her again, be nearer to her.

Screw the routine.

He descends the stage and he can only imagine the hell he'll have to pay from Walter , the head of lighting who has the dancer's directions studied to a tee to land the perfect spotlight, but he doesn't care.

The only thing Robin cares about is why this woman, this maddeningly beautiful woman, has seemed to captivate him in a way that no one ever has before, not even his ex-wife.

It's ridiculous, really.

The way he is instantly soothed as her stare matches his once again, how this person he has never seen before two minutes ago, has never said a word to, has him feeling like the only person on the face of the planet- with her.

He smiles to himself, he must be delusional. Who has a connection with someone they have never met? But he feels like he has, feels like he _knows_ her.

He's in front of her before he can remember walking and she is peering up at him, confused, shy, intimidated. _Absurd_.

How this goddess, who he would bow before as if she were royalty and not a customer, could be intimidated in this situation is absurd, unfathomable.

Robin tentatively reaches his hand out, hopng, oh so hoping, that she will take the cue, want to take it, and slip her hand into his own. He wants her to touch him, to enjoy, but he wants it on her terms. Wants her apprehension cast aside and the hint of fear (_Whoever, man, woman, or beast is responsible for putting it there shall surely be damned to Hell_, he curses) behind those big, brown orbs to dissipate.

Her friends are cheering and hollering, one of the blondes snapping a series of photos with her iPhone, he can tell by the flash, but her attention is still his and his is still hers. The rest of the world is nonexistant in this connection- just them.

Then her hand is touching his, sliding into his grasp, almost absentmindingly, as if she is running on instinct and he is so grateful. Grateful that she is trusting him with her touch and that, seemingly, she feels this pull to him, as he does to her.

Robin gives her a reassuring squeeze and a comforting smile, because he can sense that this is new to her, difficult for her, this trust and this touch, and he wants nothing more than to show her it was not a mistake.

Well, that and to kiss those plush lips that she keeps wetting with a short jet of her tongue.

But he shoves that desire down, down to where, no doubt, the rest of his blood is running, while his heart momentarily stops beating, both emotional and physical reactions as a result of the creature in front of him.

He tentatively places her hand on his bare stomach, hoping she isn't disappointed, because he knows he's not as tight as some of his coworkers, knows that he should really try to do more sit-ups during his spare time on the weekdays. _Insecure now? Geez, get it together, Locksley._

Robin assumes she isn't too put off because her hand is moving, smooth finger tips and the gentle bite of manicured nails, skidding lower and lower, raising every hair and nerve on and in his body. Then, she's hooking them inside the waistband of his pants. He gasps.

He is suddenly very grateful for the clever invention on the costumes he dons, making the lower portion of his ensemble disappear with one pull on each side, dropping them to the floor because who cares?

Her hand is on his boxer briefs now, the one thing covering him, the only thing he's wearing besides a smile that he tries to bite his bottom lip to conceal, and she yanks hard, pulling him forward until he is nearly straddling her in her seat.

Robin is in heaven.

Until he's not.

As quickly as the fire sparks, it is inexplicably extinguished, her face falling from the smile he had managed to bring to it (_Oh god, it is the most incredible smile he's ever seen, next to Roland's, and he knows it will haunt him every time he closes his eyes_), and she uses the hand she still has on him to push him backwards- away from her.

Doing his best to not trip over his pants on the floor, he feels his heart sink as she, sporting a positively horrified expression, stands to her feet and flees from the room.

_Well, you may have just cocked up the best thing to cross your path in a long time, good job_, Robin berates himself, then takes to finish his portion as best he can and, mercifully, escapes backstage.

* * *

"Rest in Peace, Mr. Never-Misses-The-Mark," Neal, known to the Body Shoppe customers as "The Fire" taunts, as Robin enters the dressing lounge.

A large room, the lounge was similar, in design, to the rest of the strip club; all cherry hardwood, black materials, and gold accents, a bit fancy for a room where a group of gents dress behind simple black partitions and await their call to go on stage.

But, it also houses several, exceedingly comfortable, black leather sofas and a flat screen television and some sort of Xbox system, plus two, full bathrooms and a mini fridge for when the men were to lazy to put in a call to the Body Shoppe's inhouse kitchen or bar (for innocent beverages, only, as anyone on shift for a night is prohibited from having alcohol), so it is typically Robin's favorite space in the joint.

Not tonight, apparently.

"Yeah, what the hell happened out there?" "The Warrior", Phil, questions, plopping down onto one of the couches, opening his newly retrieved water bottle.

Robin grunts, he is in no mood for his mates' needling, not when his mind is concentrating on the woman who just ran from his touch, a woman he was captured by for some inexplicable reason.

He goes to the set of built-in lockers , on the far side, retrieving his clothes, going behind one of the partitions and slipping the robe, which are on hooks just backstage so the dancers aren't bare when walking back to the lounge, off and replacing it with a "Chicago Bulls" shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, then sits down on one of the sofas, beside "The Gentleman", Jeff, a fellow single father, one of his best mates, who Robin prays won't join in on the teasing that continues.

"Who was the woman who ran out on you?" Graham, "The Sheriff", asks raking a towel over his shaggy, brown hair as he exits one of the two, attached bathrooms, nodding to Jeff, "Shower's all yours, mate."

Great. Robin's one buffer, gone.

Jeff shrugs, clapping Robin's shoulder, then bounds towards the available washroom.

"So 'fess up, Locksley," Neal starts again, "Who was the chick?"

"The _woman_," Robin emphasizes, because if there is one thing he cannot stand, it's lack of respect for the opposite sex, "is just a customer."

August, "The Biker", snorts, "A customer who ran out during your set. Not a great review."

"Shut it, Wood. You're the last one who should be yanking me about satisfied customers," Robin snickers as the infliction of his nickname makes August close his mouth and resume his video game match with Eric, "The Fisherman".

It also takes the attention off of Robin, for a moment, as the men howl with laughter, recalling the time August poked a woman in the eye, with an _erect_ body part, during a lap dance.

However, the laughter dies almost as quickly as it began and Graham is needling him again. "So you didn't know her?"

"No, I didn't and if you're going to keep this up, hand me a Coke, at least."

Graham fetches Robin the beverage, then sits beside Neal, who says, "You know, Ian snuck in some beer if you want something stronger."

Robin glances at the television monitor that hangs in the corner of the room, near the ceiling, sound currently muted, that shows a wide view of the main event room, where the final act, Killian "Ian" Jones is commanding the room as "The Captain."

"Unlike the pirate, I truly don't believe I'm an outlaw," He explains, with a chuckle, cracking open his can of Cocoa Cola, "I'm perfectly fine with following the rules."

"But not following a routine, apparently," Graham jests, earning him a fist bump from Neal.

Robin rolls his eyes. The next half hour, until he can finally go home, is going to feel much longer.

"Robin! Hey, what happened tonight?" Tom, "The Miner", emerges from the other bathroom, towel slung around his hips as he grabs a bag from his locker, then goes behind the partition, "Ash was back here and couldn't believe you strayed from the choreography."

"Maybe 'Ash' should be doing her job instead of paying attention to mine," Robin grumbled, taking a drink from his Coke.

Eric pauses the game (that, for the life of him, Robin can not remember what's called) and swivles around, sending Robin a smirk, "Don't you know? Her job is flirting with the pretty boy when he gets dirty."

"Asshole," Tom scolds as he comes out from behind the partition, whapping Eric in the head with his towel, "As if Ariel isn't here all the time."

"Ariel is my girlfriend, she comes to watch me."

"She comes to spy on you, dude," Neal laughs, then points at Tom, "Do you really want that? Seriously, don't shit where you eat, man."

Tom, the most recent addition to their lineup, only being an employee of the Golds' for three months, shrugs, "I like her."

"I like wolves. Doesn't mean I'm going to bang a wolf," Graham advises and Robin can't help but guffaw at that.

But at the sound of his laughter, Neal immediately focuses back on him, "Real question is, will Robin bang the Runaway Customer?"

Tom plops down beside Robin, arms folded and a large thank-god-the-attention-is-off-of-me grin, "Yeah, I wanna know that too."

"You gits belong on 'The View', not in a strip club," Robin scowls, attempting to school his anger- his anger at the pricks taunting him and at himself, because, yes, he can't help but wonder what it'd be like to touch the woman he had danced for tonight. To worship her perfect skin, to lick at her perfect lips, to have her perfect body writhing beneath him...

_No._

He has no right to imagine that, to even hope for that. He doesn't know her, she, very clearly, didn't want to know him, and gods know if he'll ever even lay his eyes upon her stunning face again.

Maybe he is just too pent up. He hasn't been with, emotionally or physically, anyone since Marian and perhaps years devoid intimacy were taking their toll on his psyche. _It had to be the only explanation to his fantasied "connection" to this woman, right?_

"Come on, mate," Graham drawls, "This is the first and only time, in two years, that you've shown any interest in any woman."

"Let alone enough interest to completely disregard your routine," Eric comments, eyes on the screen as he and August had resumed their game.

"Yes, that too!" Neal exclaims, standing briefly to ruffle Eric's black hair like you would an obdient pet, then sitting back down, "Robin, we're just happy for you."

_About what_? Robin laughs bitterly, to himself. He groans, stare pointlessly aimed at the ceiling, "Not much to be happy about. I'll never see her again, she ran out like she was on fire."

"Maybe she was," Graham suggests, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically.

Robin bites his lip, "Nah, that wasn't someone who was overly aroused. More like scared."

"Of you? Robin you wouldn't hurt anyone!" Tom defends, which "The Outlaw" appreciates, but he can only shake his head.

"I don't know what it was about, don't think I ever will. I just hope I don't get fired because of it."

"No way," Neal scoffs immediately, "Gold knows you're one of the biggest weekend attractions besides Guyliner," he carelessly gestures to the monitor where Ian is finishing his set, "And if he was stupid enough to do that, he'd have to deal with me."

When Mr. Gold had opened the Body Shoppe, Neal had been 17 and homeless, both his parents on drugs and, basically, on the run, and Gold had found the teenager sleeping in one of the rooms that had yet to be renovated before the opening. As opposed to calling the police, the establishment owner decided to take Neal into his home, unofficially adopting him as his own. Neal started bussing tables at the club, when he was of legal age, to help save for college after he procurred his GED, and convinced Gold to let him become a dancer when he was 21. Now, at 25, he was attending grad school to further his career in astrophysics.

It was a touching story, one that had been a convincing factor when Robin originally took the job at the Body Shoppe.

"You didn't do that for me!" August, infusing mock outrage into his voice, accuses, looking at Neal, briefly, then back to the screen.

"The Fire" shrugs, "I had just become a dancer then. For all I knew, you were competition. And quit pouting, it worked out, Wood. You just aren't allowed to leave the stage."

August mutters a curse word, that Robin doesn't catch fully, beneath his breath and the men share a laugh.

One that is interrupted as Ian enters, beaming, "I was bloody fantastic, as usual. Had the ladies eating out of my dashing hand." He pauses in the doorway, eyes, rimmed in black makeup, landing on Robin, "But what the hell happened with you tonight, mate?"

* * *

"Don't say a word," Robin warns as he approaches the bar near the Body Shoppe's entrance, "Or I will throw you out on the street, I swear."

"Nah, you wouldn't do that," Will chuckles as he wipes down the bar, "Ya love seeing me handsome face too much!"

Robin scoffs, shaking his head at his cousin's humor.

Will, while not up to stripping, _did_ take a job at the Body Shoppe when Robin did as the premiere bartender. It had been a good gig for the past two years. Will, having very little job experience and no higher education under his belt, was well-versed in alcohol and was charming enough to make quite a bit in tips. Plus, on the weekends, Robin and he carpooled. It was an efficient system.

Until an embarassing moment arose for Robin, because, now, he wants nothing but for his cousin to not be the one accompanying him home.

"Ya see one, albeit, beautiful chippy and you throw out the whole bloody thing! I don't know whether to be proud or disappointed, Robin!"

"Be silent," Robin advises, Will rounding the bar's corner, coming to stand beside him.

The 25-year-old nearly bounces with excitement, "But I have so many questions, mate!"

"One of those questions will be 'Can I rent this apartment?' because one more word and I'll throw you out."

Will waves off his threat, "You love Ana too much to do that."

"I never said she couldn't stay, just that you couldn't. And, honestly, who do you think she'd choose between you and Roland?" Will's face immediately falls and Robin smirks, triumphantly. "Now, let's go, shall we?"

"Robin!" A female voice calls out and Robin turns to see Belle, Mr. Gold's wife and a co-owner of the Body Shoppe, coming in his direction.

"Uh oh. The boss lady, that ain't good," Will murmurs in a hushed tone and Robin simply elbows him in the gut, harder than expected, forcing his cousin to stumble back a few paces.

"Hello Robin, hello William," Belle greets with a smile, her Austrailian accent warm and kind, as she usually is, "Robin, I just wanted to ask if you were available on Thursday?"

"Thursday?" Robin furrows his brow, then reaches a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing uncomfortably, "Um, Belle, I don't work weekdays, that was the-"

"I know and I wouldn't ask if it weren't worthwhile, but you've been requested for a private show. On Thursday. 8 o'clock."

"Requested? Really?" Could it be his "Runaway Customer"? _No, you're being a ridiculous schoolboy. Get your head out of the sky, Locksley._

Belle nods, her smile widening, "And I'm sure you know how a private show, especially a solo one, pays for the night."

He does. Not from experience, no. Solo, private shows were strictly in the weekday evenings, which he always said he could never do. He had made an exception on a few Saturday or Sunday daylight hours, for a group, private show- mainly Bachelorette parties - which, alone, had paid for this past year's Christmas. A solo one is even more.

"Yes," He finds himself saying quickly, greedily, dollar signs and visions of trading up his problematic Toyota highlander dancing in his mind, "I'll do it. 8 on Thursday."

"Great!" Belle chirps, leaning forward and placing a friendly peck on Robin's cheek, "I'm sure this exception will be worth it."

If by "worth it" she means a new SUV with reasonable gas mileage, than yes, he sure hopes so.

Belle saunters away, but turns just before she enters the main room, "And Robin? Try not to make anyone run out that night."

Will howls with laughter and Robin can only pinch his eyes closed, embarassment washing over him.

* * *

"Hello boys," Anastasia exclaims from her place on the living room's sectional sofa as Robin and Will enter, "How did the night go?"

"Robin nearly jizzed himself over a woman and she ran out!" Will bursts, immediately upon questioning, walking towards the couch, dipping to give his wife a kiss, "Why are ya still up?"

"What!" Ana shouts, then bites her lip, obviously remembering the four-year-old asleep just upstairs. She presses a button on the remote, turning the TV off, (_Alice in Wonderland_, Robin notes before the screen goes black) and curling her, previously, outstretched legs, up to her chin. "You met a woman?! Finally!"

Robin sighs, walking past the couch and into the connected kitchen, cursing the open layout of the house, suddenly, as he feels the couple's eyes on him as he bends to retrieve a beer. "Robin!"

"Yes, there was a woman," Robin relents as he drags himself back to the living area, plopping into the Lazy Boy recliner, taking a swig from his bottle. "But it's not as your eloquent husband said."

"Well I knew that, you idiot," Ana admonishes with a scoff, as if he had insulted his cousin-in-law by thinking otherwise, "That's why I need to hear the real story!"

"Hey!" Will objects, he is seated next to his wife now, hand placed on her knee, "Are ya saying I'm not trustworthy? Babe, ya wound me."

"You do tend to exaggerate, my sweet," She reasons, narrowing her eyes suddenly at her husband, "Remember when we had a bonfire and your jacket, that you were not wearing, caught on fire and was categorized as a 'near death experience'?"

Will removes his hand from her knee, crosing his arms as he sinks back into the couch cushion petulantly, "Well far be it from me to not want to die like a bloody s'more!"

"Ugh," Ana groans in frustration, rolling her big, blue eyes before she settles back on Robin, "Please tell me what happened before I think you were left at the alter by a showgirl."

Robin laughs at her example of a Will exaggeration and shrugs, "Nothing to tell. There was a woman," _The most beautiful one I've ever bore witness to_, "And I danced for her and she ran out in the middle of it."

"Ha!" Will harrumphs, "He blew off his sodding routine, only payin' attention to this gal and when he was giving her a lap dance, she pushed him and flew!"

Anastasia backhands Robin's cousin on his chest, then looks back at "The Outlaw" with a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Robin."

Robin can only shrug again.

"But you liked this woman, yes?" Ana's eyes have lit up, her lips pursing as she, he can assume, is fighting a smile that is devoid of sympathy. A celebratory one.

Robin reluctantly nods, another swallow of his brusky calming his nerves.

"Marvelous," Ana hisses excitedly, conspiratorially, "Perhaps this means you are finally ready to move on from that hideous bitch-"

"Ana," Robin groans as she mentions Marian and her giddiness is replaced by fierce contemption.

"You can't disagree, Robin. Vile, little wench. She's lucky I haven't-"

"Ana!" He tries, once again, to scold. Anastasia, ever since she and Will moved in and she started being another caretaker for Roland, had developed a passionate dislike, to put it mildly, for his ex-wife. And while he couldn't find himself to ever truly disagree with her words, the woman was still Roland's mother, well, somewhat. _That had to mean he couldn't trash talk her, right?_

The blonde, a beautiful 24-year-old, with fair skin and golden locks trickled down past her shoulders, but was usually up in a bun, as it is now, clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. A semi-silent surrender, but one she is not happy about. "Fine. I'm just glad you are putting that... _woman_ behind you."

"I never said that," Robin corrects, because it's true. He put Marian behind him long ago, the moment she abandoned their son, actually, but he never thought about dating before and he wasn't now. He is just thinking of one woman, a raven-haired, skiddish beauty with eyes that captured him like helpless prey.

Ana whines, irritated, "But Robin!", then nudges Will, "Talk some sense to your cousin."

"Ya need to get laid," Will, says in the form of "sense".

Ana drops her head to her hands, mumbling, "This is why I need you to find a woman. Being surrounded by you imbeciles all the time is killing me."

"Geez, I love you, too," Will sarcastically cracks, but his joke has Ana lifting her head, kissing him lovingly on the lips, whispering words like "Darling, you're _my_ imbecile" and snuggling against him.

Robin wants to vomit.

"I'm going to bed," He announces, suddenly, finishing his beer, then stands to his feet, disposing of the bottle before he walks to the stairs. "Was he good tonight?"

"He always is," Ana smiles brightly, "He even ate his brussel sprouts for once, it was a momentous occasion."

"Thank you, Ana."

"Thank me by telling me this: Did you really like this woman tonight?"

_Yes,_ a voice inside him screams, but he just shakes his head solemnly, "I don't know her enough to like her. I was just.. distracted by her. One time thing."

"This is not over!" He hears Ana call out as he treks up the steps to his home's second floor.

He stops at the first door on the right, cautiously pushing open the door, assaulted by the bright green nightlight right beside the door, inside. But, because of it, he can also see his greatest accomplishment in life. His son.

Roland is fast asleep in his bed. He's curled in a ball beneath the sheets, his stuffed monkey wedged under the tight grasp of his arms, his bountiful, brown curls haphazardly splayed on the pillow, covering most of Spiderman's face, unlike the rest of the bed set.

Robin ponders going over and pressing a kiss to Roland's head, but as he hears soft snores emitting from his son, he decides against it, wants him to stay in a deep, peaceful sleep, so he quietly closes the door.

After a quick shower, he is in his bed, body exhausted and begging for the relief of sleep, but mind racing and wide awake.

Trying to slip into a slumber, he closes his eyes, but can only see a pair of chocolate brown ones staring back at him.

Yes, he does like her.

And, yes, he is, _most definitely,_ in trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'Once Upon A Time or it's characters, nor any songs or other type of media mentioned, this is purely written for fun.**

* * *

_"Now if we're talking body, you got a perfect one, so put it on me..."_

Regina is tapping the point of her heels (_Your best heels_, a voice in her head sneers of the Louboutins Ella had gifted her with for her last birthday) along with the pop tune humming through the stereo. The rythmic_ tap, tap, tap,_ and Tove Lo's voice being the only two sources of sound filling the room.

It's a nice room.

But she should've expected nothing else from Gold's Body Shoppe.

The last time she had stepped into this room had been on Saturday night, nearly a week ago.

An inadvertant hiding spot, it had been. Hiding, from what, Regina is still trying to decipher, herself.

She hadn't been hiding from her friends; they knew better than to chase her down and hold her as she cried on some bathroom floor like a poorly directed chick flick. No, Regina is the kind of girl that needs space and not a single woman who had been sitting with her at that table with her was oblivious to that fact.

It wasn't _him_, either.

"The Outlaw", the stripper, the only man who had ignited an explosion of heat throughout her long dormant body, who had breathed life back into her, yet made her gasp for air simultaneously.

No, she hadn't been hiding from him, despite racing from his presence as if she were on fire (_Well, that was debatable_, the same, nagging voice reminds, _parts of you felt aflame that night_), he had been nothing but honorable. He had silently asked permission to approach her, had given her the choice to touch him or not, had allowed himself to be her puppet as she remembers pulling him closer, by his underwear, to her.

But run and hide, she had, anyways.

After Regina had run from the main room, she found herself in a darkened corridor, several doors lining both walls and she had felt the need for an escape, a cocoon of protection as her heart had pounded, at an excelerated speed, in her chest, so she had opened the first door on her left.

She had crept in, closing the door behind her, leaning against it as the pitch black of the room had engulfed her.

_She had betrayed Daniel, her one, true love_, she had thought darkly, pinching her eyes tightly, to the point of dull ache, a futile attempt to prevent the tears that had been swelling behind her lids.

After a beat, she had outstretched her arm, hands scrambling across the smooth walls for a light switch. She had found a panel containing several, including, what had felt like a dimmer switch, and she flipped all the ones she could upwards.

_Oh my_.

It had been her first thought upon what she saw what she was faced with. A champagne room.

Well, that's what she assumed it had been. It was a small room, still big enough to hold a platform, a miniature version of the stage that she had sat in front of for the three hours prior, a big, black, leather sectional sofa seated infront of it. To her right, she had seen a wet bar sandwiched in the corner, a perfect station for self-serving. Cherry hardwood and gold-rimmed accents, it was decorated as the rest of the club had been.

A_ private room. A champagne room_, she had thought, remembering the term from some sort of entertainment. _Great._

She had carefully mosied over, rounded the sofa, pulled the hem of her skirt lower as she sat down, not wanting her skin to touch the fabric. _God knows what has happened in a place like this._

Then Regina had folded. Defeated by tears, her elbows perched on her knees, head in hands, she had allowed herself to cry, to wallow in her feelings of guilt and depression and anxiety. She hadn't expected any of that to happen when Greenlee had convinced her into attending Girl's Night, at the Body Shoppe.

She hadn't expected the door to her private sanctuary to creak open, either.

But, alas, it had. A petite woman with chestnut hair, falling in loose waves, framing her heart-shaped, ivory-colored face, drawing Regina's eyes to her bright, blue orbs, that had been clouded with emotion. Concern, perhaps?

Blue eyes. _Like "The Outlaw_".

Regina groans, even now, thinking of how her thoughts continued to be consumed by him.

The woman, painting a kind smile onto her face, raising the apples of her cheeks to a plump, youthful expression, had quietly closed the door, then had turned back to Regina. "I hope I didn't startle you, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

She had an accent, one that Regina wasn't able to place, but she hadn't given it much care. Instead, she had risen quickly to her feet, smoothing out her dress, "No, I mean, yes, I'm fine. Were you coming to use this room?"

The woman had chuckled softly, "No, this room isn't in use tonight. Please, sit."

Regina, brow furrowed, wondering about the woman's knowledge of a male strip club's room availability, cautiously sat back down, tugging at her skirt again.

"I assure you," The woman had begun to speak, walking towards the sectional, the black, pleated flats on her feet, matching her tailored, charcoal trousers and white, lace blouse, had barely made a peep as she crossed the hardwood floor, "this lounge is perfectly fine. Aside from never allowing unsavory acts to take place in here, it's cleaned once a week."

Regina's eyebrows had shot up at that admission, the woman, apparently, had found it humorous again.

"I'm Belle Gold," She had said by way of explanation, taking a seat near to Regina, "I believe you saw my husband on stage earlier. We own this shoppe."

_Oh,_ Regina had realized, _the older man who had greeted the guests before the show had begun was dating this woman? She had to be Regina's age!_

"Yes, there's an age difference," Belle had whispered, as if it were highly guarded secret, amusement clouding her features.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to judge," Regina had apologized, twisting her fingers in her lap.

"It's quite alright, I assure you," Belle, kindly, had dismissed, then had gestured around the room, "In our line of work, I think it's the least of which we are judged by."

Regina had snorted, "I doubt that. Everyone out there seemed to love this place."

"But not you?"

"I, that's not," Regina paused, fumbling over her words as her thoughts had jumbled within her mind, "It's not you. Or, them, I suppose."

Belle shrugged, "I wouldn't be offended if it were, though their egos might." That made Regina giggle, had her wiping the stray tears from her face and honest to God smiling. "But, if it isn't our men, may I ask what exactly had you running in here?"

"It's complicated," The smile had slipped from Regina's face and she broke eye contact with Mrs. Gold, had, instead, turned her attention to her lap. "And I'm sorry, again, about coming in here."

Belle had waved off the apology, "Nonsense. Honestly, if it helped you, I'd glad Leroy forgot to lock it up tonight."

"Leroy?"

"He's head of maintance here. You may have seen him moonlighting at the coat check tonight."

"Ah," Regina nodded, had remembered a balding man with a hardy laugh talking to a woman when she and her friends had entered the club.

"I was in my office and I saw you run in here on the feed so-"

"Feed?"

"Security feed. We have cameras set up throughout the club. You can never be too careful," Belle had smiled, warm and kind. It had been been difficult to believe this woman had a distrustful bone in her body. "If you don't mind me asking, I know you said it was complicated, but, surely, not everything is unfixable."

Regina's head had snapped up, her lips pursed, her nails bit into her skin as she squeezed her hands, "Is death fixable to you?"

Belle had been taken aback by the venom in her voice, evident as her head jerked slightly, mouth opening and closing a couple of times. "I, my apologies..."

"It's fine," Regina had held her hand up, halting the apology, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you," she released a bitter chuckle, "It's not your fault my life's a mess."

"Who did you lose?" Was the soft inquiry from the beautiful Body Shoppe owner.

"My boyfriend- _fiancé_," She had corrected herself quickly, because no, Daniel hadn't asked her, not officially, but he had bought the ring that hugged her finger and that meant something. "About five years ago."

"I'm very sorry," Belle had murmured, then reached across the small distance seperating the women, and covered Regina's with her own.

"Thank you," Regina had replied, voice choked by emotion.

Belle removed her hand and asked, "May I ask why tonight, being here, has troubled you?"

Regina had taken in a deep breath, slowly blowing it out, "I... I was attracted to, I felt- I was affected by one of the dancers tonight."

"Always music to a boss' ears," Belle had lightly joked, drawing another smile from Regina, "Though I wish it hadn't upset you so."

"It's just that ever since my fiancé died, I haven't looked at another man. I'm- _I thought_ \- I was only wired to be attracted to one man. But, tonight, it was different and, I don't know, it spooked me."

Regina had glanced up to see Belle's head cocked, listening to the tale with interest. The lawyer released a huff of laughter, "You probably think I'm a nut case."

"No, no I really do not," Belle had replied and she leaned back in her seat, crossing her covered legs, "Would you like to know how I initially met my husband?"

Regina nodded, not sure why she had been so intrigued.

"He was in the middle of beating up my father."

Regina hadn't been able to stop her mouth from momentarily unhinging, left to hang agape and Belle giggled at the response and continued. "You see, my father, he hadn't been a good man. He made a lot of deals with a lot of people, most of which were at the expense of myself and my mother."

"It was something I had to deal with my entire life. Until I was 22 and I came home to find my father, on our front lawn, no less, on the grass, with a bloody nose, and a man standing over him."

"Turns out, my father had been involved with the kidnapping, or, well, staged kidnapping of my husband's ex-wife," Regina had shook her head in disbelief and Belle had simply rolled her eyes, "That's a whole other story."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you are not the only one with a complicated past," Belle smiled sympathetically, "You're not the only one who thinks themselves a 'nut case'."

"Well, it looks like it's worked out for you," Regina commented, her stare had been on Mrs. Gold's ring finger.

Belle hummed, "Indeed. Twelve years in July."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you..?" Belle had raised raised her eyebrows and Regina filled in the blank and muttered her name, "Thank you, Regina. It can work out for you as well, you know."

"I'm not sure that's possible."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because it just- it can't," That had just been what she accepted after Daniel's death. That when she had buried Daniel, she had buried her heart in the ground and she'd just have to live life without it.

She's not totally unsure of this, still, today.

But Belle had shook her head empathetically, "No, Regina, I don't believe that. You are a young, beautiful woman. And you proved, tonight, to yourself that your heart can find it's way to happiness."

She had snorted, once again, "With a stripper, who I ran out on. I don't even know him."

"It wasn't 'The Captain', was it?"

"No," Regina had answered, absentmindedly, had been reviewing the men that she had watched that night when she realized he must of been the finale that she had not seen. Judging by the look that Belle had been wielding, she's not sure she had wanted to, "Why?"

"His girlfriend is a bounty hunter. Not the type of woman you'd want to interfere with," Belle advised, making Regina laugh and she had thrown her hands up in surrender.

"No, she will have no fight from me. I'm not in the business of destroying others' happiness, anyway."

"Well, why don't you tell me who he was?"

"'The Outlaw'", Regina had admitted, had felt her cheeks immediately burn under the scrutny she expected, but, instead, she had glanced at Belle and saw the woman's grin, again, "What? You know him?"

"Well, he is my employee," Belle had teased and Regina remembers flushing further. _Way to go, you moron_. "But, yes, I do know him. And, I am quite certain, you would like to know him as well."

Regina had gulped, "So he's a good guy? It's not just good looks or-"

"I think," Belle had stood to her feet and Regina had followed suit naturally, "If you want to find that out, you should take a leap of faith."

She placed a comforting hand on Regina's arm, "Come back, next week, whatever day works for you. You can have a private, solo show with 'The Outlaw' and find out for yourself."

"Oh, I don't," Regina had begun to object because everything Belle had said rang terrifyingly in her ears. _Private. Solo. Outlaw. Yourself._

"It'll be on the house, you don't have to pay for anything but beverages, if you'd like, and solo doesn't mean you have to be by yourself, if it makes you feel more comfortable to have a few guests. Solo just refers to a single performer."

_Free and not alone, okay, it had sounded better after that._

"You're very wise," Regina had muttered, still processing all the information, all the feelings that the night had stirred.

Belle threw her head back and laughed, then dropped her hand from Regina, "Why, thank you. I do read a lot of books. Probably a little too much Bronte and Sparks."

Regina had joined in on the joke, giggling, then offered the woman a smile, "Thank you, for everything tonight."

"You're most welcome, Regina. Stay in here, as long as you need, by the way."

Mr. Gold's wife had then walked to the door, only to be stopped by Regina's voice bluntly calling out, "Is Thursday okay?", before she could exit.

Which was how Regina ended up here, in the same room, palms sweating and combatting her nerves, on a Thursday night, at the Body Shoppe.

It would be easier, she thinks, if she wasn't alone. But Mal has work on Friday and Mary Margaret have work on Friday, Green said she was too tired from a long day at Wings, and Ella and Ursula watch 'Grey's Anatomy' on Thursdays.

_Bitches. All of them._

Regina is absolutely convinced they all planned to leave her to her own devices. Hell, right now, they are probably sending group texts back and forth, laughing and making bets on whether Regina will flee again.

Which she is _not_ going to do.

She refuses to run away again. This is her second chance. Not with "The Outlaw", no, that's ridiculous, but to prove to herself that Saturday had been a fluke.

She will go through the motions, will politely enjoy the dancer's performance, will feel nothing but tired after a long week at the office, and then will go home, content that she can banish 'The Outlaw' from her mind, forever.

Not that he has been on her mind, not really. Just the occasional thought since Saturday. A few dreams when she slept at night. One or two musings during a dull work day. Imagining his face, his body as she watched a particularly steamy love scene between a man and woman on 'Game of Thrones'. Obviously, her mind had flitted to him as she downloaded 'Bad to the Bone" off iTunes...

_Shit_.

She has thought about him all week, nearly every minute of every day, and, _Christ, get it together, Regina, you don't even know this man._

Then again, Belle seems to think he is alright.

_He's her employee, dumbass, she makes money off of him._

Well, not tonight, not from Regina. All Regina has paid for is an apple martini she had ordered at the bar, when she had arrived early, to calm her nerves. Though it did little to help in that department, it had been delicious, she'll give the bartender (a thin, pale young man, with a heavy accent, that gave her the most peculiar look when she had sat down in front of him) that much.

She glances at her phone again. _7:54._

6 minutes. 6 minutes is what separates her from seeing "The Outlaw" again. Her pulse races at the mere thought.

Dammit. So much for proving her Saturday's self wrong.

Her phone buzzes and she sees a text from Green.

\- **_Good luck. Have fun. DO EVERYTHING I WOULD. LOL. :P ;) xoxo_**

Regina rolls her eyes and sends back a quick reply.

\- **_You would "do" him._**

The response is almost immediate and makes her chuckle.

\- _**Exactly! ;P xoxo**_

She slips her phone back into her purse, eyes darting around the room, taking in the feautures. Actually, her eyes are simply roving while her mind churns with thoughts of "The Outlaw". What he'll wear tonight, what his dancing will be like, if she'll touch him again...

Her thoughts are halted by the room darkening, the music that had been playing slowly fading out, and nothing but the sound of her own heavy breathing to distract her from her stomach doing somersaults.

A smooth voice starts to croon from the speakers and the lights, dim and low, creating a sultry glow in the space, come back on, revealing him on the stage.

_"The Outlaw"._

He's dressed simpler than he was on Saturday. No extravagant costume, just a white tank top that clings to his body, outlining every muscle in his chest and leaving his bulky arms free and on display, and a pair of distressed blue jeans.

Regina feels her breath catch in her throat as her eyes meet his. _Finally_.

She feels as if she has been waiting for this for so long, which is crazy, it's barely been a week since their stares last connected.

He starts to move. Starts to steadily rotate his hips, as he runs a hand through his hair, and Regina suddenly feels parched, swallowing hard, then letting her tongue wet her lips as her eyes stay on the dancer.

He's staring at her, never letting his gaze fall away, and she feels lifted, as opposed to weighted by it, her body temperature rising, boiling beneath her skin.

He rolls his body, once, twice, dropping backwards to the floor, being caught by one hand, and pushing back up into a standing position again.

"_My body on your body, baby, sticking like some glue. Naughty, let's get naughty, girl, it's only one or two..."_

As the word "naughty" rings from the stereo, he puts his hands on his chest, at the dip in his white shirt and rips it down the middle, the slice resounding through the room. He discards the remnants, now bare from the waist up, then stalks closer.

With every, small step he takes towards her, Regina feels her throat get tighter and tighter. _Oh god_.

_"Fever's fucking running, feel the heat between us too..."_

He reaches out, hand stretched towards her, waiting for her to take it like she did on Saturday. She looks up into his eyes, she's drowning in beautiful blue orbs, deep as the ocean, dark (By lust, she notices, a swell of pride and anxiety rushing through her) as the midnight sky.

_"I'm gon' ride, I'm gon' ride, I'm gon' ride, on you baby, on you lady, all night..."_

Oh, she wants him. She _craves_ him. It's a need as prominent as drinking, she decides. But she stays immobile, staring up at him, her hands beneath her legs on the leather sectional.

_"I'm gon' make you feel that loving, getting weak all in your knees, kiss your body from your tip top all the way down to your feet..."_

Her eyes are drawn to his lips, his pink, supple lips, encased by the scruff of facial hair that surround them. She wants to feel that hair scrape down her skin, wants those lips to soothe the dull ache it leaves.

It's too hot.

She can't do this.

She stands, abruptly, startling "The Outlaw" and he takes a step backwarads, bewilderment showing in his expression as she turns to flee. _Again_.

But something stops her.

Not something- _someone_.

"The Outlaw" is holding her hand in his own, gentle, but firm. It forces her eyes back up to his, then she sees his lips, _oh god those lips_, curve at the ends, those damn dimples making indents in his skin, her knees beginning to buckle at the sight, as he smiles.

His free hand reaches into the back packet of his jeans and, suddenly, the music is gone, a thick silence replacing lyrics of passionate love making.

"Milady," He speaks, his voice is even attractive, a husky British accent (_Was everyone in this damn place imported?_ Regina asks herself before the man in front of her swallows every bit of her attention), he gives her hand a light squeeze, "Running out twice, I'm beginning to think it's me. Please," he pauses, sounding breathless, as he pleads, "Please tell me how I can rectify this."

Regina is too stunned to speak. Her mouth hangs open, eyes blinking repeatedly. This stripper, this man, has been subject to her indecisive mind and rollercoaster feelings, yet is standing here, holding her hand, wanting to make _her_ feel alright.

"It's not," She chokes on the words, heat crawling through her skin, making her feel lightheaded, "You're fine."

"Can we sit?" He asks her tentatively.

She nods, wordlessly, allowing him to lead her back to the sofa and they sit down, side by side, her hand still in his own.

"Milady," He begins. Why is he so polite? It's not helping her try to resist him!

"Regina, I prefer Regina," She corrects, swallowing the lump conjuring in her throat.

"Regina," He breathes, his smile stretching, "I don't want to sound presumptuous, but last week, tonight, I can't help but feel..." He trails off, seems to be searching for the right words.

But she already knows. She feels it too.

_That's the problem._

"I'm sorry," She mumbles, reeling her hand out of his grasp, shaking, "I can't. We, this.. I can't."

"But," He starts to say and she brings her left hand up to push a lock of hair behind her ear and that's when she hears a disappointed, "Oh."

Regina sharply turns to him, sees "The Outlaw" has his focus pointed towards her hand, _her ring._

"No, I'm not married," She mumbles and fiddles with the piece of jewelry.

His brow furrows, obviously confused. Why wouldn't he be? _God, Regina, Cora was right, you muck up everything in your life._

"I," She inhales deeply, wondering why she feels the need to explain herself, to bring solace to this stranger in the wake of her actions.

"Regina, it's okay," He amends, but she slips her hand back into his, surprising him.

"I don't know what this is," She laughs, softly, it's involuntarily. The whole situation is so ridiculous, "I haven't- I don't do this, relationships. I lost someone I love and I don't think I'm capable of... But I can't deny this pull I feel towards you.."

She's not making any sense, she knows this.

But he surprises her, this time, pulling her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, sending shivers up her arm, her hair standing at attention from the shock. "Robin Locksley, at your service, milady."

"Robin", She says it outloud, the name rolling off her tongue like a caress and she watches him close his eyes. She affects him as powerfully as he affects her. _Good to know._

"Regina, I don't want to force you into anything, never, but I, I don't know why, but I haven't been able to rid you from my mind. I look at you and feel consumed, and this is not a usual feeling for me."

Her breath hitches again and he hurries to continue, "Please don't think me too forward. I know we don't know one another, but I want to. I want to know you."

"Even though I ran from you twice?" She teases, finds it comes naturally.

He smirks, bringing a smile to her own lips, "I am nothing if not persistent."

"Or stubborn."

"Perhaps that, too."

She hums, "That's the first thing I've learned about you."

"I hope to teach you more." A heat flushes over her and she observes his own blush covering his cheeks, the weight of his words truly sinking in.

Regina bites down into her bottom lip. Her body is crying out to touch him, for him to touch her. But she reminds herself of Daniel, of their love, of her commitment to him.

She surely cannot give her heart to someone else.

_But what about her body?_

It's a thrilling thought that she mulls over as he says, "We could be friends."

Friends, yes, she could be friends with him, with Robin. It could be no different than Green or Mal or Ella or...

Her mind is still racing, churning with reasons, explanations, excuses, but her body is running on instinct and uninhabited adrenaline, apparently.

Her hands reach up, wishing she had some sort of fabric to grasp, to yank, but, instead, she wraps her hands around his bare neck and she pulls him forward, towards her, until their lips collide, crashing into one another's with such a force that she falls back on the sofa, bringing Robin on top of her.

Regina opens her mouth under his, an uncontrollable moan vibrating from the back of her throat as his tongue jets out, poking at her bottom lip, tracing it's shape, before he invades her mouth.

He groans when she tilts her head sideway, deepening the liplock, forcing them closer. His hands frame the sides of her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks affectionately. He uses his gentlte grip on her head to pull her up with him, back into a sitting position as he slows the kiss.

With one last suckle to her lip, he retracts, leaning his forehead against hers, panting, "Not that I'm complaining, but, uh, what.."

She presses a hard kiss against his lips again, greedily pawing at bare skin, suddenly wanting to touch him everywhere and anywhere.

This is her first, real semblance of human contact, of sensual touch, in almost five years. It's as if the absence of it in her life is now dragging her, suffocating her, and he is her one source of relief.

"Regina," He moans, pulling back again, holding her wrists, restricting her ability to touch, to grab, to knead, "What are we doing?"

"I can't be in a relationship," She says by way of explanation and his face falls, "But I want to know you better, I want.."

Regina isn't sure what she wants. She wants to get to know him, to be this charming, funny, thoughtful man's friend, but she wants his body, wants to feel him glide his large hands from her face, down her body, teasing her sensitive skin, alighting a fire beneath his touch. She wants more of his kisses, wants him to trail them from her lps, down her neck, and lower. She wants him. His muscular arms, his toned physique, his captivating eyes, his beautiful smile, she wants it, _needs_ it.

It's been too long since she's been with anyone, she realizes. Maybe it's like a car, or a computer, an update, a tune up, is necessary every so often. This isn't her betraying Daniel, not if her heart isn't involved. It's just something her body needs._ That is all._

"Regina, I don't want to have sex with you," Robin murmurs, his fingers lightly dancing over where he holds her wrists, but he must see the surprise (_And, yes, some pain_, Regina reasons_, it's a blow to her ego_) that shows on her face, because he chuckles, flustered, "Obviously, I want to have sex with you, but I don't j_ust_ want it to be sex, you deserve more than that and that isn't the man I am."

"You have no idea what I deserve." That damn lasagna flashes in her mind again, then an image of Julie crying at Daniel's funeral. She forces the thoughts from her mind, the pitiful feeling of self-loathing starting to fade as she focuses on the man in front of her, alive and tempting.

He cocks his head to the side, his teeth sinking into his lips as his eyes rake over her facial features, "I know you deserve more than a one night stand."

"Friends, then," Regina suggests, quickly, suddenly terrified of this opportunity escaping her grasp, "We'll be friends, I'll tell you my favorite food and you tell me your favorite color-"

"Green," He interrupts, and it makes her smile, his playfulness. _But, no, Regina, this isn't about his personality, this is about satisfying your needs. That. Is. All._

"But we can also help each other, friends can do that, right?" She wriggles her wrists from his hands, then slides her palms up his chest, "That's not against the rules." She bites her lip, relishing in the way her words wash over him as he watches her, feels her.

This isn't like her, at least, not with people she wasn't comfortable with, this boldness, this audacity, but she she can't stop herself.

She grins, wickedly, "But rules don't apply to 'Outlaws' anyway, do they?"

* * *

**(A/N: There ya go! OutlawQueen interarcted, talked, kissed! Woohoo! And Regina wants to be Friends With Benefits, dun dun dun! LOL. Thank y'all SO much for your response to this fic, it means a lot and I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. Also, the songs included this are "Talking Body" by Tove Lo and "Ride" by SoMo. )**


	4. Chapter 4

Oh God. Oh God. _Oh God._

Robin is an idiot, he knows this is certain.

Only a sod like himself would have a woman (_the most gorgeous, intriguing, bold, and captivating woman he has ever laid eyes upon_, he can't help but note), a readily available and eager woman, kissing him, her plump, luscious lips enveloping his own in an all-consuming embrace, and touching him, the soft pads of her fingertips leaving a trail of heat in their wake as they traveled down his naked chest, and talking to him, her breath warm and smelling of apples (and a hint of alcohol!), asking him to be with her...

Only for him to refuse.

Well, refuse is not quite right, because Robin Locksley may be a sodding idiot, but outright stupid he is not. The only thing he refused to do was allow Regina Mills to slip through his fingers entirely.

So when she had offered (_enticed_, a voice hisses in his head, as he recalls her dancing, mischevious, dark eyes and pearly white teeth biting into that plush, inviting bottom lip of hers) a friendship, but with the physical benefits of a romantic relationship - _"We can also help each other, friends can do that, right? That's not against the rules. But rules don't apply to 'outlaws', do they?" -_ he simply had asked to see her cellphone.

She had looked at him with suspicion and curiousity, one eyebrow perfectly arched, but, nonetheless, had reached into her small, hand-held purse and, then, had handed him her iPhone.

He had entered his number, a new contact under the name 'Outlaw Robin ;)' and returned the phone to her with a smile. "Milady," He had begun, smiling at how Regina seemed to have to bite back a teasing comments, obviously not accustomed to the formal addresses that his parents instilled in him from a young age, "I maintain that you deserve more from this than just physical pleasure- we both do."

She had smirked, her tongue swiped swiftly across her upper lip, and then she leant forward, closer to him, enough for him to have felt her raised body temperature radiating off her smooth, olive skin, and to have smelt the distinct scent of vanilla wafting from her silky, ebony hair. "You don't think our pleasure would be enough?"

Robin had swallowed hard at that, had closed his eyes to resist falling into her own, and tried desperately to ignore the ache of his erection that had been fighting a _hard_ battle against his jeans.

_Of course_ having sex with Regina would have been enough. If the chemistry that exploded between them when they were in just the mere vicinity of one another was any indication, the sex would have been bloody fantastic, spectacular, mind-blowing. He could picture them both naked, perspiration clinging to their skin as they would cling to each other. He could see her writhing beneath him, on top of him, in front of him, as he would tickle her erotic senses, relishing in her gratification, postponing his own until he milked every moan, plead, and scream from her mouth. He could see lying sated beside her, pressing a gentle kiss to her dark tresses and cuddling closer to her, whispering loving words in her ear.

But that is the problem.

Regina doesn't want soft embraces and adoring sentiments, despite Robin believing she is worthy of that and oh so much more.

She's been hurt. He could see it that first night at Gold's Body Shoppe when she had run from him, when she attempted to repeat her actions a few days later that night she made this "friends with benefits" proposition, the same night she had confirmed his suspicions, hastily, almost absent-mindedly saying she had once lost someone she loved. He could see how guarded she is, he could relate to it - yet another aspect to draw him to her. But because he understands losing someone, the pain that attaches itself permanently to your heart, he knows that she should have more than a one night stand with a vague stranger.

So, that night, he had leaned in closer, his heart thumped wildly with every inch that had disappeared between them, and placed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. A tender, slow peck that had had Robin hearing Regina's breath catch in a quiet gasp. He had pulled away before she could properly reconnect their lips and smiled warmly at her. "I have no doubt that if I threw you down on this couch right now, the pleasure would be immense."

Robin had seen the spark reignite in her eye, but he had continued before she could supply a response, "But what would happen after that? We'd get our jollies and leave? No, Regina... I consent to not having a romantic entanglement, if that is your stipulation, but mine is that I want to know you, truly, before we cross that line."

"Why?" She had huffed, demandingly.

He had reached his hand upwards and held her cheek, his eyes roved her facial features, as if he had been trying to memorize every facet, "Because when you come down from the stars I'll make you see, I don't want you to see me as your lust-crazed mistake - I want you to know the person you allowed to kiss, lick, feel, and enter your body cares about _you_, not just that body."

Robin had watched Regina's mouth part, close, part, then close. _No one had been this concerned with her well-being, at least, not recently_, he had, sadly, concluded. _Ridiculous_.

It had then occurred to him that, perhaps, he already crossed a different line - an emotional one. Who was he to know what she deserved out of life? But she hadn't appeared affronted, just stunned, so Robin moved forward once more, his mouth against her ear and whispered, "Plus some prior knowledge of each other could eliminate any awkward foreplay."

It had worked. A giggle had erupted from within her, a throaty, joyful chuckle that had made him smile against her skin, before he dropped a kiss just below her jaw and retracted from her personal space.

"Is this awkwardness a regular occasion for you?" She had teased.

"Well, no one loses their virginity like they do in those chick flicks..." He had joked, which caused her smile to widen further.

"I wouldn't know," Regina had smirked, "I'm more of a Wes Craven kind of woman."

Robin remembers having raised his eyebrows at that relevation and he had tried to conceal his amusement, "So, you don't scare easy, I assume?"

She hadn't answered, simply looked at him as the ease had begun to fade from her and asked, "Do you?"

"The only phobia I appear to have is of beautiful women."

Regina had rolled her eyes, a soft, slightly bitter chuckle had escaped her mouth, "I think you're in the wrong profession then, 'Outlaw'."

He had chuckled, but then shook his head and stared directly at her, "Until Saturday I had started to doubt that true beauty would ever grace this place."

She had looked down, trying to hide a grin that had slowly worked it's way across her lips, but he had, once again, touched her face, a finger had hooked beneath her chin and gently guided her gaze back to his own.

"If you want to pursue this, whatever the hell this may be," He couldn't help but to have smiled, this definitely was not a situation Robin had been accustomed to, "Call me, text me, anything. Allow me to know the Regina outside of this shoppe and allow me to show you Robin and not 'The Outlaw'."

Regina had then nodded in acceptance, letting him know that she understood his words and he had then kissed again, slow and savoring because he hadn't known when (_or if,_ a pessimistic part of him had reminded) he would get another chance. Her tongue had circled his own, then sucked it into her mouth, forcing him closer, deeper.

Robin had forced himself to detach their lips, popping one, last closed mouth smooch against hers, then he had stood and said goodbye to her, to Regina.

It wasn't until Saturday night (technically, very early Sunday morning) after he had returned home from his typical shift at the Body Shoppe, had checked in on a snoozing Roland, had taken a shower, and then settled into bed, barely focused on the television that had been illuminating his darkened bedroom with a rerun of "Friends", that his phone had vibrated from it's place on his sidetable.

He had furrowed his brow and wondered who on earth could have been contacting him at 2:10 a.m., then reached over and had discovered a new text message, from an unknown message.

**-Lasagna**.

One word. That had been it.

Robin had almost dismissed it as a mistyped number situation before Regina's words from that Thursday had echoed in his head. "_We'll be friends, I'll tell you my favorite food and you tell me your favorite color..."_

'The Outlaw' had smiled then, genuine and light-hearted, the kind of smile he had not worn unless it had been related to Roland until Regina, apparently.

It is now Saturday, two weeks since Robin had first laid eyes upon Regina at the Body Shoppe, nearly one week since her first text message.

There's been many, many more since then. He has tens, if not hundreds, of their digital back-and-forth's yet to be deleted from his phone. He is suprised by how easy it has been with Regina, how they can discuss the most random of topics, yet do it for hours.

* * *

**\- You said lasagna is your favorite, to cook or to eat?**

**\- Both. Though, I prefer baking to cooking.**

**\- I'd prefer to eat the product of either efforts. :P ;)**

**\- Not much in the kitchen, huh? LOL.**

**\- I burned soup before.**

**\- HOW IN THE HELL CAN YOU BURN SOUP?!**

**\- I put the can in the microwave. :(**

**\- You're lucky you just burned the sou and not your house to the ground!**

**\- It was in college, no one is perfect, milady. Try not to think less of me? :P XO**

**\- I think less of Stanford for allowing you to graduate. LOL.**

**()()()()()**

**\- When I was in high school, I saw the Styx in concert and it was one of the best nights ever.**

**\- Graduation gift?**

**\- God, no. LOL. My best friend and I had to sneak out to even do it.**

**\- You wild child. :P**

**\- How about the Brit? Don't tell me it was all Spice Girls and George Michaels. LOL.**

**\- Ugh, you know me too well already, darling. :P ;)**

**\- Out with it, Locksley.**

**\- So demanding, milady. Should I start calling you Your Majesty?**

**\- I prefer Your Royal Highness. Hehe.**

**\- Whatever my Queen desires. XO ;)**

**()()()()()**

**\- ROBIN! It's 3 am! We need to sleep!**

**\- Then go to sleep, I'm not making you reply. ;) :P**

**\- I don't want to be rude...**

**\- Or, perhaps, Her Majesty enjoys talking to the simple outlaw. ;)**

**\- You wish.**

**\- Every night. XOXO.**

**()()()()()**

**\- I don't understand why your country can't take stronger measures against animal abuse. Have you seen these commercials?**

**\- LOL. Yes and I agree, but after over a decade here, I think this is YOUR country too, Mr.**

**\- You like animals?**

**\- Who doesn't like animals? I'm not an EVIL Queen. Hehe.**

**\- :) I never said anything of the sort, Your Majesty. You just haven't mentioned pets.**

**\- I don't have any. Apartment = no pets.**

**\- Irresponsible cousin = no pets. :P**

**\- What would you get if Will could be trusted? LOL.**

**\- I've always liked dogs. "Mans best friend" and such. And you, milady?**

**\- I love horses. Had one as a child.**

**\- You'd love the land around my hometown, lots of wide open spaces.**

**\- Did you ever ride?**

**\- Once. Damn beast kicked me in the shoulder. I still have the scar. -_-**

**\- Poor thing. However did you survive?**

**\- Knowing I'd meet a magnificent woman who'd teach me how to ride again. ;)**

**\- I thought YOU were going to teach ME a lot of things.**

**\- Indeed. ;) ;)**

**()()()()()**

**\- You're a grown man. Why do you use silly symbols to puncuate your messages?**

**\- Milady, I have burned soup and I take my clothes off for money. I don't have much in the sense of shame any longer.**

**\- Fair point, but does this ;) truly add anything to your words?**

**-It's just fun. Much like your "LOL" or "TTYL".**

**\- THAT IS NOT THE SAME!-**

**\- I'm afraid that it is...**

**\- :0 :0 :0**

**\- NOW you understand why I use the "silly symbols".**

* * *

She's funny, he has realized. Witty and sharp and sarcastic, qualities Robin finds he enjoys immensely, though he's finding that there's not much to complain about when it comes to Regina Mills.

Speaking of the woman who has invaded his nights and days and celluar device, his phone rings and he doesn't hesitate to hit 'accept' as her name flashes across the caller ID screen.

"Milady," He greets with a grin because, no, she can't see him, but it's what she makes him feel and he refuses to deny himself. The phone calls had started on Thursday, after she had joked that she was going to have to soak her hands in an ice bath after a day filled with paperwork (_A lawyer_, he had known by then, _but every time he has been reminded of her brilliance, he's almost grateful she doesn't want a relationship because he surely is not good enough for her),_ he had called her so she wouldn't have to strain her fingers futher, yet, selfishly, so he had been able to keep their conversation going.

"Is this a bad time?" She asks now, sounding almost timid.

"No, of course not," And it's true. He's just been lounging in the living room, watching a soccer match on some ESPN channel, with Will, who is loudly scarfing down a bag of potato chips with a container of French onion dip from his horizontal position on the sofa, while Anastasia has been teaching Roland how to bake cupcakes in the kitchen. "What's up?"

He stands from his seat and crosses the room (he ignores Will's hollered objections as he momentarily steps in front of the TV to reach the front door), then goes outside, sitting down on the porch steps.

"Are you sure? I can.."

"Regina," Robin laughs, but says her name firm enough that she, hopefully, knows he's serious about her being no bother.

She seems to know because he hears her sigh and then she answers with a more relaxed, "Hi."

"Hello to you, too," His smile grows across his lips.

"What are you doing?"

She asks the question casually and who wouldn't, it seems like a fairly easy one to answer. Except for Robin.

He bites his bottom lip, mulling over appropriate answers and settles on, "I was watching a game with Will." It's not as if it is a lie, just a half-truth. He omits the portion of his morning in which he took Roland out to breakfast and, then, how he and his son went to retrieve groceries, including supplies for the baking said son and Robin's cousin-in-law were now doing, inside.

Robin has yet to tell Regina about Roland. He's going to, certainly. A child isn't something you can hide away, nor would he want to - Roland is his whole _world_, his reason for waking every day. But telling her about Roland would inevitably lead to questions about Roland's "mother" and that is a dreadful conversation that shouldn't be done over the telephone or in a text message.

_How hard is it to say she cheated on you and took off, leaving you a broke and single parent?_ A voice sneers inside of him, reminding him further of how he wishes he didn't have to tell Regina any of this. _So much for lacking a sense of shame._

Part of Robin also worries that finding out he has a son will make Regina run away faster than Marian had. After all, the gorgeous woman now on the other end of his phone made it perfectly clear that she didn't want a relationship; Hell, he had had to talk her into this friendship they were creating, what would she do if she knew he had a four-year-old son, an MIA ex-wife, and more baggage than she probably expected from an exotic dancer named 'The Outlaw'?

"Sounds like loads of fun," She drawls, sarcastically, and he laughs.

"I'm sure you are entirely envious of this thrilling afternoon, Your Majesty."

Her laughter, her contradictory giggle, rich, yet airy, boisterous, yet demure, echoes in Robin's ear. "Oh, yes, it's a shame I'm not sitting on some ratty sofa, watching men chase after an inanimate object for hours."

"My couch is is actually very nice, comfortable, even," Robin defends with mock outrage, then switches the focus of attention to her. "And what elegance have you been engaging in today?"

Regina hums, "Well, I went to lunch with my friend, Mal, and am now waiting for a lasagna to finish cooking in the oven and wondering if someone will come eat it with me."

Robin's breath catches in his throat. She's inviting him to dinner. To a dinner she's cooking. _At her apartment._ The fresh air around him suddenly seems to not be enough and he suffocates under the possibilities that a night, such as this, could entail.

"Robin?' She inquires after his pause and he hears the nervousness return to tone.

He's hasty to abate it, again, the phone nearly slipping from his palm as he jerks his head, "I would love to, but I work at the Shoppe tonight."

"Oh." She's disappointed. _Bloody fantastic, Locksley, you really are a sodding idiot._

"I'm sorry, I can try and call my-"

"Robin, stop," Regina interrupts him, sharply, and he winces, is convinced he mucked up something before it even properly began, but she just laughs again, "It's fine. I just forgot these are the nights you work. We are not in a relationship, you don't cancel work for friends."

"Maybe I wanted to cancel for the lasagna," He teases and she guffaws, lighter this time, allowing his shoulders to sag with relief.

"Lasagna can I always be reheated, or made again."

"Oh, thank God," He exaggerates relief and he can picture her beautiful, shining smile peeking through her succulent lips at his words, "I was worried this was a magical, one-time-only lasagna."

"No, dear, the only thing magical about it is my secret ingredient."

"Fairy dust?"

"Poison," She hisses conspiratorially into the phone and he barks with laughter at her joke.

He sobers and apologizes, once more, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be ," She excuses, easily, which makes the pain of not accepting her invitation all the more painful for Robin, "I'll talk to you later."

"Indeed, milady. I shall hold you to that."

And then she is gone.

Robin groans, not-so-gently tossing his phone onto the wood of porch and runs his hands over his face. He's never despised Gold's Body Shoppe more.

He heads back inside, Will cursing at the television being what greets him. "These pricks need t' get their bloody heads 'out their arses!"

Robin rolls his eyes, but can't help but to crane his head to catch the score. His cousin, for once, is right.

"Was that ye lover girl?" Will prods with a smug grin and Robin's eyes widened and he whaps him on the head with his hand.

"Ow!" Will exclaims, his own hand reaches up to the assaulted spot, "What the hell was that for?!"

"I told you that this was to be kept in the strictest confidence," Robin scolds, eyes flashing towards Anastasia and Roland, who are, thankfully, to busy sliding a tray of cupcakces out of the stove to have heard his loud mouth of a relative.

Will sits up, his eyes narrow, "Ye didn't tell me a sodding thing! I was the one who told _you_ lover girl was the private show last week, not hard to put the piece t'gether after that, cous'."

Robin pinches his eyes together, a headache brewing in his temples, "Please quit calling her that."

"Well ya won't let me call her 'Appletini', which I find adorable, me self."

"William," Robin starts sternly, sitting down beside him on the sectional, "_Please_. I told you, this is a delicate situation. I don't want Roland - or Ana, for that matter - knowing yet."

Will chuckles, the bartender clapping 'The Outlaw' on the back, "Me wife is a nosy one, 'snt she?"

"Yes, so please," Robin pleads again, "Do not tell her."

"Don't tell who, what?" Anastasia's voice cuts through the conversation and he can feel the throbbing in his noggin increase substantially.

"Belle," Ana's husband is quick to answer, "The boss lady'd be right pissed to find out I've been helpin' the boys sneak booze into the back room."

Ana scoffs, wiping her flour tainted hands against her red, lace-trimmed apron, then glaring at her husband, "Whatever you two are _actually_ talking about, I will find out. You're too careless to keep this ruse up for long."

She turns on her heel, making her way back to Roland's side as he anxiously asks if they can frost their baked creations yet.

"Damn, that girl be too smart for her own good," Will remarks, leaning his head back against the couch.

"Or yours," Robin jokes, then stands to his feet and goes into the culinary area of the house.

"Daddy!" Roland shouts as his father pulls up beside him at the kitchen's island, "Look at our cupcakes! Ana says they're too hot to decrate yet."

"Decorate," Ana corrects mildly, receiving a grateful nod from Robin. She's been the best influence in his son's life, even more so than himself, he thinks, sometimes. She doesn't slack on righting his pronunciations or to scold him on any skipped manners and Robin suspects she'll be an incredible mother one day because she is already an incredible quasi-parent to Roland.

"Decorate," Roland parrots his "aunt" (_because 2nd cousin or cousin once removed, whatever the proper title may be, doesn't compute to Robin, let alone an almost five-year-old_) with a quick nod of his head.

The cupcakes look and smell delicious, the warm aroma of chocolate filling the house, having saliva pooling in Robin's mouth. "And may I ask what kind the chefs prepared?"

"Forest!" Roland answers enthusiastically, "It's really just chocolate, but we call it forest."

"They're a variation of Black Forest cake," Ana speaks to Robin, holding up a can of frosting, "Chocolate cake with cherry confection."

"Yum," Robin growls, his stomach matching the action as he continues to eye the dessert.

"Oh no, Robin Locksley," Anastasia snaps, glowering as his stare reaches hers, "I've already had to ban my husband from stealing some of the batter, don't think I won't do the same to you."

"Thieves not allowed," Roland proudly states, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair from Ana, and a praiseful "You tell 'em, Roland", to match.

Robin lifts his hand in the air, with a mask of innocence, "I am no outlaw," Ana snorts at this inside joke that the child between them is obviously oblivious to, "I have enough honor to respect the rules."

"You hear that, darling?" Anastasia calls to Will, who petulantly sticks his tongue out at his wife and she rolls her eyes, yet Robin sees the amused, involuntary smile slipping over her lips.

She then turns to Roland, informing him that it's time to finally frost the cakes and Robin joins the duo in spreading the cherry-flavored frosting over the dark chocolate cakes within the tin, circular containers.

Will saunters into the kitchen moments later, his lower lip stuck out in a pout and Ana giggles, relenting with a groaned "Fine" and he comes over, swiping his finger into the frosting, but opposed to licking it off himself, he sticks his digit up to his wife's lips and she playfully cleans it with her lips and tongue.

_They really are quite a pair_, Robin observes. Married for six years, yet act as if they are perpetually in the newlywed stage. Their riffs never last long, they are openly affectionate (_occasionally bordering upon inappropriate!_), and they genuinely have fun with one another. That had always been something that had been missing in his own marriage.

Robin's thoughts then flit to Regina, to kissing frosting off the pad of her finger, or swinging Roland between him and her as Will and Ana are often requested to do when they have a family outing at the park.

_Stop it_, he silently reprimands himself. Regina is not his wife, she's not even his girlfriend, he has no right to picture her in domestic activities with him and his son. A son she isn't even knowledgable yet.

He sighs and glances at the kitchen clock hanging on the wall. He has to eat, then get ready for work in awhile.

He looks at Roland, his face scrunching up in heavy concentration as he covers (messily!) another cupcake in frosting, at Will whose arms are wrapped around Ana from behind, his wife giggling as her husband tries to distract her by peppering kisses to her neck.

Robin sighs, out of contentment for his family and this utterly serene moment, and out of flicker of disappointment, wishing for something he knew wasn't possible. So he swallows those feelings and, instead, offers, "Pizza?"

* * *

"Alright, 'Outlaw'," Neal begins, emerging, freshly showered, from one of the lounge room's bathrooms, plopping down on the sofa beside August as Robin is securing his costume, "I got 20 bucks that you choke again tonight!"

Robin grunts, not paying attention to the jeering blokes as he fastens his trousers, taking care to make sure the take-away feature won't malfunction, as he always does, though tonight he seems to be a tad too focused. Like Roland frosting a cupcake, as opposed to the grown man who has done this hundreds of times.

"Look, man, I was kidding. I mean, the performance went off without a hitch last week, you reclaimed your 'never-miss-the-mark' status," Neal says and Robin finally glances at him.

"It's fine," He shrugs off, trying to concentrate on the moment, on his job, on his coworkers, and not the apartment somewhere in the city where Regina sits with a lasagna. _His lasagna_. Or, well, it should be.

Damn this moment. Damn this job. Damn his coworkers.

"You okay, mate?" Ian questions, then taking a swig of his smuggled-in beer.

"Fine," Robin groans, running a hand through his hair, "I just, I'm not with it tonight, I suppose."

"So the bet could work out for me, you're saying?" Neal jokes and August elbows his friend in the ribs, "What? Graham has $50 on it!"

Robin actually can't help but chuckle. They may be a group of asses, but he knows their needling isn't malicious, and, he also knows it isn't their fault that he's spending his night with them and not with Regina.

"Speaking of which, Jeff's set just ended, you're on deck," Ian reminds, vaguely gesturing at the monitor where Jeff, bare backed and all, exits the stage, as Lance (known to the shoppe's customers as 'The Knight'), filling in for Phil, is announced and saunters onto the screen in his silver body paint.

Robin reaches forward, tapping his knuckles against Neal's, "Make sure to make Sheriff boy pay up, when he gets out of the shower."

The men share a laugh and Robin exits the lounge, passing Jeff in the hallway as he heads backstage.

He hums along, rocking back and forth on his feet, to the tune of Rod Michael's "Knight In Shining Armor", Lance's theme, and tries to allow the main room's whooping and hollering distract his mind from returning to Regina.

He fails.

All he keeps thinking of is the last time he was in this building with her, in that private room. Learning the timbre of her voice, her name, her _touch_.

God, he remembers her lips sliding against his own, her hands pawing at his skin, his hair, her body curvy and pliant beneath him, him hard against her hip, imagining entering her just as his tongue had slipped into her mouth.

"Shit," He mumbles to himself. Now _really_ is not the time to be obsessing over this, or, any time, actually. He had been the one to pump the brakes on their physicality that night and every one that has followed. Suddenly, he's realizing missing a night alone in her apartment, that presumably had a bed, couch, and other soft, accomodating surfaces, may have been the best coincidence to happen to him.

Lance comes off the stage, wearing a large grin. "Great crowd out there tonight, man."

"I'll say," Robin comments admirably as Lance begins pulling dollar bills from his g-string, while his paint is starting to drip off thanks to the perspiration accumulating over his body.

Lance scoffs, patting Robin's shoulder, "You'll make a helluva lot more than this - they go nuts for you." Just then, the announcer introduces 'The Outlaw' and 'The Knight' guffaws at the round of screams and applause that follow, "See?"

Robin claps hands with his friend, then bids him goodbye as he goes onto the stage.

He's not sure why his gaze is drawn there, not until his eyes fall on her.

Sitting in one of the front tables, perhaps the table she had originally sat at two weeks ago when he first laid eyes on her, is Regina, a large smirk plastered across her face.

_Oh God_.

Robin tries to regulate his breathing, and subdue the growing ache in the lower portion of his body, as he starts his routine as normal. _He'll be damned if Graham gets 50 dollar from this predicament._

He gyrates, strips, teases the crowd, yet his eyes keep being pulled, like a magnet, back to Regina, who sits stoic, yet her lips curved in amusement. _Oh, those lips._

He dips into the crowd and can't resist slinking over to her. He watches her try to suppress a smile that is attempting to creep onto her face, while her hands remain folded on her lap, though she does uncross her legs as he saddles up to her.

Robin offers her his hand, a sense of deja vu washing over him, and she takes it without hestiation, pulling him closer until he is straddling her, properly.

But he surprises her when he steps back, he can see the shock cloud over her feature, her jaw unhinging momentarily, but as he rips away his pants, standing clad in his black boxer briefs, the smirk returns to those blasted, tempting lips of hers.

He resumes straddling her lap, rolling his body accordingly to the musical beat of "Bad to the Bone" while Regina's hands search his body, skimming over his arms, his collar, his chest, his abdomen, and then he feels her teasing the waistband of his underwear and her fingers sneak inside and he has to stop moving now because she is dangerously close to where he is erect and crying for the relief he knows only she can bring him.

But, instead, she drops something into his briefs, then snakes her hand back out, onto more neutral territory, on his hips, and he starts his ministrations up again.

He regrettably steps back, anticipating the end of the song and he doesn't want to leave her, wants to leave with her, talk to her, and, _fuck_, yes, maybe touch her more than the lapdance would allow for.

However, Regina makes the decision as she sends him a wink and then leaves her seat, and then the room, entirely, and Robin is gobsmacked. Did she leave him? _Again_?

He finishes the rest of the set and then returns backstage, Ian handing him his robe, before 'The Captain' goes out to close out the night.

Once alone, Robin takes a second, leaning against the cool wall, breathing in and out and in through his nose. He manages to center himself, then recalls the paper Regina had taken to hiding in his underwear. Curiously, he reaches down, pulling out a one dollar bill that had something neon green wrapped around it. A post-it with the ends taped together to create an embrace around the single, he realizes, smirking at her cleverness.

He unfolds the paper, which has an address scrawled onto it and a sentence below it.

**_"It's not too late for lasagna tonight."_**

Oh God. Oh God. _Oh God_.

He shouldn't do this, he shouldn't. He should maintain the promise he made himself to know her further, to not let his hormones, his body's desperation for her, to win out. He needs to remember the rules he set for the two of them.

_"But rules don't apply to 'Outlaws' anyway.."_

Screw it.

Tonight, Robin will truly be an 'Outlaw.'


	5. Chapter 5

_What the hell is she doing?_

It's the only thought that runs through Regina's mind, from the moment she leaves Gold's Body Shoppe, to this moment, right now, her shutting the door to her apartment, leaning her forehead against the cool metal of the entrance.

She pulls in deep breaths through her nose, allowing them to woosh out of her mouth. Slow and steady, as she tries to center herself, to slow the blood that is racing, pulsing throughout her body and to quell the constricting knot growing in her throat.

_What has she done? _

She should have never listened to Mal today, that's for damn sure.

Regina had met her friend for lunch, earlier in the day, at Lumiere's, an upscale bistro where it wasn't improper for Mal and her to share a bottle of Sauvignon blanc over their respective meals of crusted halibut, for Regina, and an angel hair pasta carbonara for Mal.

They had chatted, about work, about current events, even briefly touching on their mutually dysfunctional families, until Mal had eaten her last forkful of food, then had dropped her utensil unceremoniously onto her plate and said, "So, are you ever going to tell me if you've ridden 'The Outlaw' yet?"

Regina had nearly choked on her sauteed asparagus at her friend's blunt question, she had quickly drained the remaints of her second glass of wine, then pursed her lips. "I don't think that's any of your business."

Malese had laughed out loud, then. "You do remember who I am, right? I'm your former roommate. Should I remind you of the times you snuck Daniel in when you thought I was asleep..."

"I'd rather you didn't," Regina had grimaced, had ignored her usual "more than two is too many" rule, poured herself more of deliciously dry liquid, "In fact, I wish you'd kept your mouth shut about that all together."

"You went to pound town in the bunk above me and I was the one supposed to be quiet?"

"Well you didn't have to announce it to everyone at Daniel's birthday party," Regina had, not for the first time, reprimanded, a flush covered her cheeks as she had remembered her boyfriend's 20th birthday, a simple affair with no more than 15 of their friends, in a dorm common room, where Mal had stood up on the sofa and toasted to Daniel, to he and Regina, and included a "funny" anecdote about her being awoken by soft moans and the frame of her and her roommate's bunk bed slightly shaking.

"I still remember his face," Mal had chuckled, sipping at her own wine, "Poor Danny was pale as a ghost." _Not the best choice of words._

It had must've shown on Regina's face, because her pal had, then, quickly muttered apologies. Ones that Regina had waved off with a shake of her head.

"It's fine," She had mumbled, had stared down at her half-eaten halibut with a suddenly lessened appetite. "I can't-" She had begun, swallowed thickly as her brain had searched for the right words, "I can't keep policing when or how people talk about Daniel. He was your friend, too. We should be able to share these types of stories by now."

Mal had reached across the table, then, had disposed Regina of the fork she had in her hand, the one she had used to mindlessly push food about her plate during that conversation, and taken her (then free) hand within her own. "You're allowed to miss him, Reg. We all do. I still mourn Lily and it has been a helluva lot longer stretch of time."

It wasn't until junior year of college, it had taken three years of being roommates and a regrettable bottle of tequila for Mal to open up to Regina. A woman who was fiercely guarded, who hadn't dared to show true emotion, had broken down into tears, telling Regina about her younger sister, Lily, who had, when Malese was a senior in high school, had to have a cyst removed from her ovaries. The cyst, the size of an egg, if not bigger, had been in a difficult spot and had erupted mid-surgery, releasing contents into her pelvic cavity, sending her into septic shock, which ultimately ended the 14-year-old's life.

To this day, Lily is not someone that Mal often discusses, the aptly nicknamed 'Dragon' always the strong, resilient, 'live-in-the-moment' kind of gal, so when she had mentioned her deceased sister's name at lunch, Regina had been momentarily flabbergasted.

"Do you think I'm an idiot for holding onto this, _him_, five years later?" She had asked, softly, once regaining her bearings. Her gaze had flickered to her engagement ring, shining in the Chicagoan sun that beamed through Lumiere's floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

"No," Mal had stated firmly and gave a squeeze to the hand she still held, "You loved that man, you thought he was going to be your future. I can understand it being a difficult thing to accept."

"But," Regina had urged, hearing the unspoken word which, she knew, hung on the tip of her friend's tongue.

The blonde had sighed, then, and retracted her hand from Regina's, "But, and I've told you this for years, Daniel wouldn't want your life to end just because his did."

_Ouch_.

Mal had been right, she had said that for, at least, the past three years to Regina, but every time it still stings a bit more. _The truth hurts, isn't that what they say, a _voice in her head had reminded her.

She had nodded her head, had bit down on her bottom lip as Mal had continued, "You know I say this out of love. Maybe a little harsher than Green or Mary Margaret, but it still comes from the same place."

"I know. I just- Mal, I'm not ready to open my heart to anyone else, I don't know if I ever will be."

"Who the hell said anything about your heart?" Regina's pal had cackled, which had brought a levity back to their lunch date, thankfully, "You know my motto, dear: Open legs, not hearts."

Regina had laughed, then rolled her eyes in amusement before she said, "Well, I tried that."

"Excuse me?!"

Regina had nearly burst into another fit of giggles at Mal's reaction, her eyes had gone wide, her jaw had slacked, her palms had slammed against the white-cloth covered table top they had sat at. However, Regina had just shrugged.

"I wanted to, I don't even know, have a sex.. thing with him."

"Sex _thing_?" Mal had repeated, the ends of her lips had curled upwards at the words, "What does that mean? Like a specific position? Behind, above, below, sideways, what are we talking about here?"

"No!" Regina had hissed, then glanced around the restuarant to make sure this conversation was not the focal point of some stranger's attention, considering Mal hadn't been exactly demure in her behavior, "Like sex, but no relationship."

Mal had _Ahh_-ed in understanding, "Well that's quite a big step for you. Did you chicken out before he could slide home?"

Regina had sent a glowering glare across the table, "No, it wasn't me. It was him, actually. He wanted, or, well, he _wants_ more; he wants us to know each other before we do anything."

"And how do you feel about this?" She had felt Mal's cautious stare resting on her, had known she had been asking more than just the one inquiry that had left her mouth.

"I think he's right. I think being friends with him, knowing more about him than him just being a stripper will make things more comfortable- make me less likely to, oh how did you so eloquently put it, 'chicken out'?"

"But," Mal had interjected, much as Regina had previously.

"We've been talking for a week and," She had sucked in a deep breath, had been skeptical that the actual words even had had the ability to leave her mouth, "I want to fuck him. Now."

Mal's eyebrows had shot up near her hairline at Regina's bold phrasing, but she had then brought her hands together in a quiet clap, pride had oozed from her voice as she exclaimed, "There's the Regina I know and love! So what's stopping you from screwing his brains out? Nervous there may be cobwebs down there?"

"Shut up," Regina had scolded, though a playful edge had been tacked onto her voice as she teased 'The Dragon' right back, "No, I just don't know if he's ready. God, I don't even know if we're still headed in that direction or if we're actually just friends now."

Malese had scoffed, "Puh-lease. I was there that first night, remember? That man wanted you like you were an ocean in the middle of the Sahara."

"We've talked since then, though! He now _knows_ me, not the dressed-up audience member from the club."

"Which probably means he wants you even more."

"Am I crazy?" Regina had suddenly blurted out, which caused a confused expression to mask Mal's features, "Is this whole thing crazy? 'Friends-With-Benefits'? I'm not in college anymore! For God's sakes, I'm a woman with a career, and responsibilites, and a-" She had stopped herself from saying "a fiance" and a wave of guilt had washed over her.

"The only thing crazy about this is that you're sitting here, with me, instead of finally getting laid by something other than that vibrator Green got you as a 'joke'."

Regina had groaned, covered her face with her hands, her elbows then rested on the table, "Mal..."

"I think you like this guy," Regina's head had then popped up, an argument poised at her lips, but her friend had rolled her eyes in annoynance and continued, "Calm down. I mean, I think you like him as a friend, like him enough to be comfortable with him, to be honest with him. So, again, why aren't you calling him over to break in your bed, by maybe breaking your bed."

Regina had ignored the exaggerated eyebrow wiggle Mal had added onto her statement, "And how does that conversation go, Malese? Hm? 'We've talked enough, time to put that perfect body of yours on me'?"

"Don't forget _in_ you, that's the best part," Mal had winked, then had sobered to seriously address Regina's question, "Just call him and invite him over. Make up some excuse if it makes you feel more comfortable, it won't matter once he gets there."

"I did say I love to cook lasagna.."

"The excuse doesn't matter!" She had interrupted, then brought her hands up to rub at her temples, "Oh, you have so much to learn still."

"Well, thank God I'm under your tutelage," Regina had jested, which earned her her own fiery glare from her friend.

"And with said tutelage, you'll be under 'The Outlaw' by the end of the night."

But she isn't under Robin Locksley - at least, not _yet_.

She remembers the stab of disappointment that had pierced through her when she had called him earlier in the day, after she had returned home from lunch with Mal (_thank God for the invention of Uber car services_, she thinks, once again), and he had reminded her that he was to work at the Shoppe tonight.

What an idiot, she had been. She had met Robin on a Saturday, what had made her think that he wouldn't have been working tonight?

Dejected, she had phoned Mal, had informed her of her cringe-worthy failure.

"This is perfect," Her friend had practically purred into the phone and Regina's face had scrunched up into one of confusion as she spoke into the receiver.

"Perfect? Did you not hear me? He's not coming over tonight."

"Exactly, but you can go there."

"There, where?" She had questioned, then realization had hit her and she could hear Mal snickering over the line, "Gold's Body Shoppe? You want me to just go jump him at work?"

Mal had scoffed, then, "As if that would be something new in his line of business? Doubtful", Regina had said the defense attorney's name in a cautionary tone and Mal had sighed, "It will be sexy as shit, Reg. Think about it: He sees you in the crowd, looking as hot as ever, you leave, I guarantee he will follow you home like a puppy on Viagra."

Regina had groaned, had slapped her palm against her forehead, "You have been spending too much time with Ella."

"Maybe you should, too! At least Ella and I get laid," Mal had then reminded and Regina hissed a half-hearted "Bitch!" into the phone, which had just received a laugh in response.

But the more Regina had thought about it, the more it had made sense. After all, the Shoppe was where they had initially been introduced, where they had been attracted to one another. If she had any doubts about Robin's willingness to act on that attraction, surely that setting would at least help.

So she had put on her tightest black dress, which happens to be strapless, one that she normally wouldn't be caught dead in without some sensible tights and a fitted blazer, but tonight she had worn it alone, with nothing but a pair of black, sling-back heels.

She'd quickly scrawled her address and, what she had thought, had been a clever note to accompany it on a post-it, and taped it around a dollar bill, her anxiety had risen with every movement.

What if he would think it was stupid? What if it fell out of his underwear before he could see it? What if he didn't even dance close enough for her to insert it? Those had been her thoughts up until Robin had actually appeared on stage.

He had spotted her almost immediately, just like the first night she had laid eyes upon him, and any doubts that had clouded her mind, every worry that had taken up space within her brain, had faded with every meeting of their eyes.

He had eventually made his way to her, had danced on her, _for_ her, and she hadn't been able to resist smiling, nor resist touching him. She had let her hands roam over his musclar arms, his toned chest, his sculpted stomach, she had almost forgotten to drop the dollar into his boxer briefs (_which she hadn't been able to help but notice were tented as he had rolled the erect portion of his body against hers)_, but she had managed to do so, then had hurriedly scurried away.

Now, here she is, back in her apartment, heart thumping just as harshly against the confines of her chest as it had during her entire ride home.

And the doubts have creeped back into her mind.

She can't help but wonder if she should have just stayed home and actually baked lasagna, instead of hand delivering a booty call invitation to 'The Outlaw'.

She sighs, plucking her heels off her feet, dropping them lazily by the door, then depositing her clutch onto the kitchen counter.

Her iPhone is in her hand and she scrolls through her messages, sees nothing from Robin. Just a few "encouraging" (_if "__**RING ME IF YOU NEED LUBE' **__can be considered encouragement_) texts from Mal, an e-mail from Ella about a meeting they have at work on Monday, and a voicemail from her mother. _Well, if nothing else comes of the evening, at least she got to miss a call from the Queen of Hearts._

Just as she's about to strip herself of her too-tight frock and slip into a bubble bath, possibly wash away the memories of her embarassing actions while she can, there is a knock at her door.

And the air is simultaneously knocked out of her.

She slowly crosses back over to the door, not realizing she's been holding her breath until her hand grasps the doorknob and she sucks in a deep breath.

She flings the door open and there stands Robin, nearly panting, as if he had run all the way to her apartment. He has something in his hand, her post-it, she recognizes, and she bites her lip, a futile attempt at biting back a smile.

"Hello, Regina," He breathes and, oh, for some reason, the sound, her name dripping off his tongue, it sends a current of electricity throughout her body.

"Robin," is all she manages to say in response, her own voice breathy (_needy_, a unwarrant voice within her snickers) and soft.

"May I come in?" He questions and, _fuck_, yes, why was he not inside already?

She nods, barely any movement required of her neck, but it's enough and it has Robin taking two, large steps forward, crashing his lips against her own, his hands finding purchase at the backs of her thighs as he scoops her up, has her winding her legs around his hips.

He spins them around, sufficiently closing the door to her residence by slamming her back up against it. She hisses into his mouth, not that the collision of her body and the door was painful, but just for the mere fact that he did it. That he's _here_, pressing her up against her door, grinding his lower body against her own, penetrating her mouth with so much passion that it steals her breath right out of her lungs.

"You got my message," Regina moans as Robin rips his mouth off of hers, his trailing over her chin, her jaw, down her neck, up to her ear, where he nips at her lobe, making her hips react by thrusting hard against his.

"I just can't resist an invitation for lasagna," He whispers against her ear, his voice husky, filled with want, want for her - the thought has Regina's body singing.

For a moment, it's nothing but rolling pelvises knocking against the door and Robin's mouth sucking at the skin of Regina's neck, the friction, the pressure, making her moan and gasp.

Then they're moving again, and Regina has never been more grateful for her apartment's open layout, as Robin spins them around, taking a few strides, until he's toppling on top of her on her white, chenille sofa.

She immediately takes his shirt to task, pulling at the bottom of the t-shirt, trying to get it up and over his head and off him as quick as her nimble, but shaky, fingers can manage.

But he's grabbing at her wrists, pinning them above her head on the couch, dipping his mouth back to hers, a hot, moist embrace of lips and tongues and teeth as he swallows her breath and licks at her lips, before rearing up, letting go of her hands.

She's breathing heavy, panting, really, wantonly. She's watching him through her thick lashes, hoping that he'll remove his shirt, then resume his place on top of her, rutting against her through their clothes (_too many damn clothes,_ she curses in her head), and melding his lips over hers again.

Instead, he's just watching her, his eyes drinking her in, her face, down her neck, to her chest, to her thighs, where he's straddling her. It's intense, it's full of an unnamed emotion, this gaze of his, but whatever it is, it has her shifting her hips, trying to quell the pulsating need at the apex of her legs where she's wet and wanting.

Wanting is an understatement. Oh, she _needs_ this. It's been too long and Mal is right, her heart doesn't need to be in it and she refuses to feel any guilt in this moment, not when this incredibly sexy man, not when _Robin_, is here, right here, almost where she really needs him to be.

She tries to move again, to get _him_ to move again, because the heat pooled at her lower half have her panties sliding against her and she is squirming, aching for his touch.

But he does the opposite. He lifts his legs and removes himself from her, plopping down on the sofa, head in hands, groaning, "I'm sorry, Regina. I just... I can't. I'm sorry."

Regina swallows hard, confused, but still aroused and she doesn't know how to react. She sits up, gingerly, resting herself on her knees beside him, reaching out and guiding his face to to match hers, searching his eyes for any hint as to why he's backing out of this, why he's rejecting her.

_Oh, that hurts._

She may not love this man, may not even care for him like normal people would, people who haven't lost the love of their life too early in life and resolved to be celibrate the rest of their's. Well, celibate until Robin, that is.

So she has to know why.

"Robin, what is -"

"I have a son," He blurts out and Regina physically repels backward, as if those four words had burned her skin, "I should have told you earlier, I'm sorry. I just, I haven't done.. this in a very long time, not since Roland, actually. That's his name, Roland. He's four, almost five."

He's rambling, stumbling over his words, then pulling out his phone, thrusting it in her direction, showing her a picture (_his wallpaper picture, like a proud dad_, she notes) of what, who, she can only assume is his son, Roland, a young boy with a mop of brunette curls, a few falling in front of his face, but not nearly long enough to cover his smile. Dimples bookend the large grin stretched out across the child's lips and, oh he most certainly is Robin's son, there's no doubt.

"Are you," A sound releases, involuntarily, from her mouth, something akin to a whimper, "Are you married?"

"God no!" He quickly answers, almost too quickly, has Regina narrowing her eyes at him and he shakes his head, turning his body to fully face her, "Regina, trust me, I would never, _ever_ do that to another person, nor to you. I was married, a long time ago, but she left shortly after Roland's birth and we were divorced soon after."

He doesn't give her a chance to continue, to ask why he kept something so monumental from her in all of their conversations, yet had shared ridiculous, pointless in comparison, details of himself like his favorite sports teams and how he'd helped his father build a treehouse when he was a boy._ Did he build a treehouse for Roland?_

"It's one of the reasons I haven't told you sooner, because I knew telling you about Roland would lead to questions about his... mother," He says the word as if it's acid stinging his tongue, it pulls a frown from Regina, has her feeling bad for whatever this woman has done to illicit such irritation from, what's she's seen, as a mild-mannered, caring man, "Otherwise, I would've probably told you that night in the private room. You must believe me, Regina."

She does, tells him as much as well. She can see the passion sparking in Robin's eyes as he talks about his son, the reverence with which he loves him, and she can piece together, now, why Robin, a single father, probably took the job of taking his clothes off - extra money to provide for his son._ Family over dignity, not something Regina had ever been taught with her mother._

"My ex-wife, the way she left, it was painful, to say the least, and it's stuck with me, is why I haven't done this," He gestures, vaguely, between the two of them, "since then and, God, I'm an utter sod, I didn't want to burden you with those details, but I'll tell you whatever you want to know, I -"

She shouldn't judge him, she can't, really, unless she wants to be a hypocrite. Because she hasn't told him about Daniel, about why she doesn't want a relationship, why she's so closed off, emotionally (_obviously, no longer, physically, considering your legs were wide open a few minutes ago,_ she reminds herself), and she hadn't been planning to, so why should she expect it of him? They're more similar than she had thought.

"I don't want a relationship," She states, suddenly, and Robin simply blinks at her.

"I know that."

"You have a son."

"Indeed."

"Robin," Regina begins, huffing out a breath as she runs a hand through her now mussed up loose curls, "You have a son, a life, responsibilites. You should be looking for a partner, not someone who can only give you meaningless sex. You should-"

But she's interrupted by his lips kissing hers again, sweeter, more tender than their heated liplocks of the past, but it still has her moaning into his mouth as he tilts his head sideways, opening, inviting, her tongue to tangle with his.

They kiss for a few moments before Robin retracts, resting his forehead against her's, "No offense, Your Majesty," and his nickname for her as her relaxing a bit, as her smiling, "But I can decide what I should or shouldn't do with my life."

He seperates himself from her, but he has his hands on her upper thighs, holding her close as he speaks, "Regina, you are the first person, the only person, who I have even _thought_ about being intimate with. I refuse to abandon that, not unless, of course, you have changed your mind."

She shakes her head and it has a grin spreading out over his lips, has him reaching forward to peck hers, "Good. And this isn't meaningless, at least, not for me. I consider you a friend. Bloody hell, I told you I've burnt soup and only my closest friends know that tale." She giggles at that, shaking her head again, this time incredulously, amused, and his smile widens, dimples etching further into his skin. "I'm not asking you to be my wife, or a mother to Roland, or even a girlfriend. I'll not push you into anything you're uncomfortable with, Regina. This friendship, whatever you want to call it, I already treasure it and I want do whatever _you_ want to do."

Regina watches him, as he watches her. He's waiting, wondering what her next move will be, she can tell. His thumb is swiping back and forth in a rhythmic motion against her thigh, has heat trickling throughout her, just that small touch.

And, all of a sudden his words from the last time they were side-by-side on a sofa, come rushing back to her memory_. "__Because when you come down from the stars I'll make you see, I don't want you to see me as a lust-crazed mistake - I want you to know the person you allowed to kiss, lick, feel, and enter your body cares about you, not just that body."_

Yes, he has a son and, yes, this is already becoming more complicated than Regina had anticipated, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't be worth it, that it won't be worth it.

She leans in, her mouth skimming against Robin's cheek until it is right beside his ear and she murmurs, "Make me see stars, Locksley."

**(A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who has been supporting this story. I can't believe it has almost 100 follows, let alone everyone's extremely kind words. I truly LOVE writing this story and I'm actually excited to continue writing it, so it means everything that y'all enjoy it too! I hope to update again soon, hopefully, after OQ week is over this week.)**


	6. Chapter 6

She wants him.

Robin has told her about Roland, even (albeit, briefly) about Marian, and the gorgeous, witty, enigma of a woman named Regina Mills still wants him; she's sitting here beside him, her fingers dancing along his thigh, and she is still inviting him into her home, her bedroom, _her_.

_"Make me see stars, Locksley."_

Those had been her words, echoing the same ones he had conveyed to her in the private room of Gold's Body Shoppe over a week ago.

And, suddenly, Robin's feels as if his stomach is lurching into his throat, constricting his airways, forcing him to swallow hard, to try to regulate his breathing by any means necessary as nerves run rampant within him.

He had promised Regina a night of mindblowing pleasure. Hell, he had actually used the phrase "seeing stars", in not so many words! And, sure, it had been easy to say that in the moment, as they had sat on the sofa of one of the Shoppe's private rooms, after their lips had been fused together in a hot, wet, deep kiss, as his erection had struggled against the confines of his jeans, and images of what could occur had been swimming through his arousal-clouded mind.

Now? _Well, he is certainly still aroused._

But he is also realizing that it's been four years since he has had sex with anyone besides himself. Not to mention, his last time, outside of his own hand, had been with Marian, about five months after Roland's birth, and that had been more of a dutiful act, as opposed to a sensual one - had been quick and quiet. _Had they even kissed? Robin cannot remember._

He doesn't want that for Regina, though. He doesn't want it to be quick, he wants to explore every inch of her, he wants to stretch out the amount of time in which she is suspended in carnal bliss, milk her body of all the delectation it can physically offer her. He also doesn't want quiet, he wants to - no, _needs_ to - hear every moan, every whimper, every scream that escapes her beautiful mouth, to know that she is experiencing the sexual gratification she deserves. (_And, selfishly, Robin can't deny that the thought of her panting his name has his cock twitching._)

Yes, she deserves the best sex of her life and his opinion on that will not waver. He doesn't know the specifics as to why she's been alone, why she is so against the idea of relationships, but, considering he _just_ told her one of the reasons why he had also been celibate the past few years, he can't judge her, and he loathes to pressure her about it. It was obviously painful and just enforces why her first experience, since then, should be as bloody brilliant as it possibly can.

_And you're sure as shit not up to those standards, Locksley_, a self-conscious voice sneers inside his mind.

"Robin?" Regina questions, her fingers ceasing their ministrations on his leg, bringing his attention back to the woman the beside him, a concerned expression crossing her face, "Do you not want to..?"

"Regina," He groans, his eyes falling to her lips, notices how they're still swollen, plumper than usual, from their bruising kisses mere minutes ago. _Has it really only been minutes?_ "You have no idea how badly I want to."

She smirks, her teeth scraping over her bottom lip, as she scoots closer to him, "Oh, I'm positive I have an inkling or two, Outlaw," and he can't resist smiling, seems to do that a lot in the short span of time he's known her, "In fact, I can feel it."

She whispers that last line to him, playfully, has him gulping and forcing himself not to look down at the impossibly short hemline of her dress, rucked up even farther from their activies here on her couch, just _barely_ covering where his body is so desperately crying out to be.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Regina murmurs, returns her hand to his body, this time her fingers are crawling against his waistline, though, teasing the bottom of his T-shirt and slipping underneath it, tickling his skin with her soft touch.

It amazes him, Regina Mills amazes him. She can be so guarded, so closed-off, but she'll have moments like these, where she is bold and audacious, a seductress in another life, he's sure. He knows the confidence of this, in her mind, only being sex, nothing more emotionally invested than body against body, probably has highlighted the daring parts of her personality, but he can't help but hope that it also has to do with her being comfortable around him, at ease enough to forget the distress of her past and open herself, not just her legs, the way she does for him.

"You're staring," She comments, not appearing particularly off-put by the fact that he's gazing at her, just curious.

Robin shakes his head, his mouth opening on it's own accord, but not having yet conceived the words to accompany it. Regina tries again. "Robin, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I may cock this whole thing up," He sighs, raggedly. Regina's brow is furrowed, confused, and he continues, "What's the point of having a purely sexual relationship with someone who is complete rubbish at it?"

She laughs, a giggle, really, her head bowing as her shoulders slightly shake. She releases a breath and looks back up at him, a smile etched on her lips, "Robin, I haven't done this with anyone in a very long time. Even, on the very off chance, that you are awful, I won't know."

"Oh, yes, that makes me feel loads better, thank you," He quips, sarcastically, and it pulls another chuckle from her.

"Besides, I thought you said we're friends? Isn't that why we waited this long to begin with?" Robin glances at her with that question - she's right, after all. They're supposed to be friends. She may not want a relationship, but it's more than one screw, right? Isn't that what he had told her? Yet he still can't quell the doubts brewing in his mind.

Regina groans and stands to her feet._ She's kicking you out, you sod_, he berates himself, internally winces as he waits for her to give him the ol' heave-ho.

Instead, she makes her way to stand in between his legs, her hands finding purchase on his neck as his automatically, naturally, travel to hold her hips. He looks up at her, with her ebony hair falling all around her face and her chocolate brown eyes, now, dark as coal - dark with _lust_, with _desire_. The realization a surge of electricity sparking through his body.

"I have not felt the way I do, right now, with you, in, what feels like a lifetime," Her voice is low, in timbre and volume, as if it is physically caressing his ears as her fingers play with the short hairs at the back of head, "I refuse to let fear, mine or yours, stop me from having an orgasm tonight. So, you can either take up the challenge..."

She steps back, out of his grasp, smiling coyly to him as she starts to walk backwards. "Or you can leave and I'll take matters into my own hands. Your choice, Outlaw."

Regina leaves the room, leaves Robin impossibly hard, near panting, actually, as he watches her exit._ The minx_.

This is foolish. This is idiotic. This is bloody _ridiculous_.

There is a woman, in what Robin can only assume is Regina's bedroom, wet and waiting, and wanting nothing but to be good and thoroughly fucked, and he's going to talk himself out of being the one to give that to her over some insecurities?

_No_.

"Outlaw", she had called him, and an outlaw he would truly be. For him. For _her_.

Robin jumps to his feet, nearly stumbling over his own step as he follows the course that Regina had taken, leading down the short hallway, to where her bedroom door is open, her standing with her back to him as she is attempting to zip down her dress.

He feels something akin to a growl emanate from the back of his throat as he strides forward, until he is directly behind her, his hands gripping onto her hips, yanking her backwards, directly against him.

Regina moans and_, oh God_, Robin could come just from that sound alone.

He begins placing soft, yet heated kisses up and down her neck, has her craning her head to the side, giving him more room to roam with his lips. She purrs as licks a circle around her pulse point, before nipping at it, gently sucking.

She's swaying against him, rotating her hips against his erection and it's almost painful, a torturous blend of aching teasing and relieving friction.

Robin glides his lips up to her ear, dipping his tongue inside, before aligning his mouth so he can mumble, his voice hoarse with arousal, anticipation, into her ear, "The only time you'll need those hands tonight is to stifle yourself from screaming the walls down."

Regina gasps at his words, just as his fingers forcefully jerk the zipper to her down and he pushes it past her hips.

She whirls around, clutching Robin's T-shirt and pulling him to her, crashing their lips together in a frenzy of lips and tongues and teeth, as she bites down- hard!- on his top lip to force his mouth to open wider.

Robin retracts from the kiss, decides to take a moment, before this truly begins, to admire her, to lust over her, to imagine what he's about to _do_ to her. His hands are everywhere, touching at every juncture of exposed skin, which is quite a bit, as she is only in strapless black bra and matching, lace panties.

"I can't scream if you don't do anything, Outlaw," Regina teases, her voice husky, fueled with want, her lips parted as she breathes heavily, but the corners of her mouth are curling into an impish grin.

Robin shakes his head, incredulous by this brazen beauty in front of him, and this time he very much growl as he pounces forward, lifting her up by the backs of her thighs, much as he had done when he had first arrived. She squeals at the sudden movement and then he is tossing her onto her back, onto her bed, the action alone causing her to moan.

Regina lays there, her olive skin and black underwear a contrast to the ivory duvet she is on top of, one of her legs bent as she squeezes her thighs together. Robin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, restraining himself, as he pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it somewhere on the hardwood floor, that runs throughout the entire apartment, it seems, and feels a swell of pride as he observes her lick her lips at the sight of his bare torso and chest.

He takes his clothes off every week, for dozens of cheering women, yet that one, appreciative swipe of Regina's tongue across her top lip has him reacting he never has when getting next to naked at the Shoppe.

He lurches forward, jumping on the bed, jumping on her, as he reattaches his lips to her's, tilting his head until his tongue can search every nook and cranny of her deliciously tempting mouth. She groans and he starts thrusting his tongue in and out, in and out, matching the rhythm of his hips as he grinds against her.

Regina's hands sneak to his back, her nail digging into the skin there, but Robin reaches backward, grasping her wrists and tearing his mouth away from hers, hovering over her as he pins her hands just above her head, as he had done earlier on the sofa.

"I swear to God, if you stop now -" She threatens, between labored breaths, but is interrupted as Robin leans down, nipping at her neck, sooting every sting of his bite with a gracious lick. She moans, again. _Maybe you're not that bad, after all, Locksley._

He ventures lower, kisses down the column of her neck to trace her collarbone with his tongue. Regina squirms beneath him as he comes to her breasts, nearly spilling out entirely out of her bra and he makes quick work at disposing her of damn material.

Robin reactively thrusts his hips against Regina's when he tosses her bra over his shoulder, feasting his eyes upon her bare chest for the first time. He can feel saliva pool in his mouth and he swallows it down before taking her skin into his moist cavern.

He's suckling at the sensitive skin of of her breasts, Regina arches her back up, her head down at one of the harsher sucks, it has her exhaling his name like it's a mantra, and then yelping it as he latches onto her nipple.

He tugs and nibbles and flicks his tongue in an up and down motion, several times, before laving the opposite one in the same attention.

She's rutting against him, as best she can from her position pinned below him, driving her pelvis up faster and faster, and Robin realizes that she's close. From just this alone.

He continues his sensual assault on her breasts, releasing one of her wrists, freeing his hand, that he slips down to her panties.

"Fuck," Regina hisses as Robin starts to rub over her underwear- the lace already soaked through, making him stop his actions for a moment, resting his forehead against the warmth of her clavicle, taking a deep breath in and out, watching as the forced out air pebbles the skin beneath him.

His hand below her waist dances against her with a hastened speed and Regina is whimpering. He takes one of her nipples and bites down, not too roughly, but with enough force that she flings over the edge of pleasure, crying out, coiling her legs tightly around his body, whether to bring him closer or to stop the rotation of his hand, he's not sure, and he doesn't particularly care as he lifts his head, watches as her face, scrunched up in pure, agonizing bliss, with fluttering eyelids and her lips rolled up into her mouth, captivates him completely.

He eases her down, then removes his hand. He releases her other wrist, using both of his extremities to grip at the sides of her panties, pulling the moistened garment off her body, leaving her utterly nude and utterly gorgeous.

A thin layer of sweat is already sparkling off of Regina's body, her chest bathed in perspiration and Robin's spit as it heaves up and down.

"You're," He kisses above her belly button, "stunning," he kisses below her belly button.

She seems to know what his intentions are as his head drives farther down her body and her legs close together for a moment. His head snaps up, his eyes connecting with hers and he sees the flush of color tinting her cheeks - _And bloody hell, what could she possibly have to be embarassed of?_

He doesn't say a word, just keeps his stare locked with hers, while his hands, now on her thighs, rub gently, up and down, while tenderly squeezing and releasing.

After a moment, or an hour, it feels painfully similar in this second, Robin decides, Regina lifts a bare foot, placing it on his shoulder, shoving him down, before spreading her legs apart. "Let's see if your tongue is as sharp without those silly symbols."

He grins, marvels at the fact that only she can turn making fun of him about his use of emojis into something sexual, sexy. "As Her Majesty wishes."

Robin dives his head into the apex of Regina's thighs, tightening his grip on her thighs as he yanks her closer. The scent of her arousal invades his senses and he runs the tip of his nose from her pelvic bone, down over the tidy patch of curly, dark hair covering her sensitive skin, skims over her clitoris, the brief contact having Regina buck up against his face, and he shushes her as she starts to mutter apologies, until he reaches her sodden folds.

His tongue traces her entrance, one side, then the other, before slowly pushing his way in, beginning to lap at the wetness that has collected.

"Robin, faster," She pleads, groaning, pumping her hips up once, twice, a third time.

He pulls back, smirks as she whines with the loss of stimulation, until he is slowly pumping his index finger inside her, then out, delving deeper into her warmth each time until he's nearly a third knuckle deep, the tip of his index finger curved towards him, which has Regina almost flying off the bed.

_Ah, there she is._

He adds a second finger, making sure they hit the same spot with every thump, dragging them out slowly, enough to skate right up against her wall and he can feel, more than see, her thrashing above him as she mewls louder and louder with every thrust.

"And you said," She rakes in a deep breath, pausing as he pulls his fingers out to the tip of his nail, then thrusts back in, "This would be awkward."

He guffaws, then leans forward, keeping his fingers' movements at a steady speed, places a kiss against her clit, a kiss that has her toes curling into the fabric beneath her. "That's cause we got to know each other. Aren't you glad that I'm so 'stubborn' now?"

It sounds as if she's beginning to say "Yes", but he, deceptively, chooses to wrap his lips around her bundle of nerves and give the engorged nub a long, hard suck, and "yes" transforms into a babbling of a syllables that don't make any coherent sense.

He can feel her tightening, her inner walls tugging his fingers in deeper, a slight clench, than an ease in pressure, and pulls at her clit, with his mouth, again, as he introduces a third finger inside of her.

"Robin, I'm going to, I'm-" She's all breathy and panting, gasping between words, then trails off as a muted-down shout rips from her throat, just as she clamps around his fingers and her body begins to shake, rattling against the duvet, her thighs entrapping Robin between them as she reaches her climax.

Regina drops one leg, than the other, and Robin stands from the kneeling position he had adoptedon the floor, licking at his lips, then using the back of his hand to wipe away the remnants of Regina from his scruffy facial hair.

She's still lying on her back, one of her arms laying over her face, "Remind me to thank my friend, Mal."

Robin chuckles, crawling up her body until he can remove her arm, the one that is blocking her beautiful face, "I do believe I had a thing or two to do with what just happened, milady."

She smiles up at him, then catches his face in both her hands, pulling him down until his lips are just ghosting over her own, "I'm not arguing with you."

They kiss, chaster this time, compared to their others, hurried. Regina sits up, Robin backing up until he is stradding her legs.

Her hands anxiously start fiddling with the button on his jeans and he has to retract entirely off the bed to escape her touch and she frowns.

Before she has a chance to speak, he unbuttons his jeans, allowing them to cascade to the floor (_thank God he didn't bother grabbing a belt today_, he thinks), "Regina, tasting you was enough to make me want to explode, don't make this any harder."

"I don't think _harder_ is physically possible," She smirks, eyeing the erection that is buldging through his underwear.

Robin can't resist, he feels a need to dip forward, capturing her lips, swallowing that prideful grin of hers, then whispers, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"More than sure," She replies as she places a kiss to the corner of his mouth, to his jaw, to the beginning of his neck. Regina, then, meets his eyes, her fingers weaving into her hair, brushing through the bedhead muss that's been made of it, "I haven't done this in awhile, do you have -"

Thankfully, he does. After he read her post-it, he had rushed back to the dressing room, had pulled Graham, someone he didn't trust as much as Jeff, but a single gent who he could put enough faith in not to bust his balls about it, like Neal, aside and had asked for his assistance with that product.

Robin reaches picks his jeans up off the floor, retrieving the foil-wrapped product, and Regina rolls her eyes, amused, "You were that confident you were getting lucky? What if it truly had been a late night lasagna invitation?"

"I assure you, I would have been just as happy with your delicious pasta, darling."

She narrows her eyes, though he can tell that she is fighting a losing battle with a smile, "'Just as'?"

"Regina," Robin exclaims, slipping out of his boxer-briefs, sauntering back towards the bed, "I can honestly say, nothing is as delicious as _you_ are."

She ignores his earlier pleas, wraps her hand around his swollen hardness, gently tugging him forward, "Get inside me, Locksley."

Robin obliges instaneously. He rolls the condom over himself, as Regina lays back, watching him with heavy-hooded eyelids, her mouth and legs both parting, as he aligns himself up at her entrance.

As eager as he is, as incredibly _excited_ as he is, to be enveloped in Regina's womanly warmth, he knows it's been quite some time for her and he pushes in slowly, taking note of every contort of her face, every grimace and every pinch of her eyes as she adjusts to his length, inch by inch.

Once he is fully sheathed by her tightness, he grinds his teeth together, holding back, waiting for her, betraying every nerve in within him that is begging to reach that peak of ecstasy that being in Regina has to offer.

"Robin," She murmurs after a minute has passed, "Move."

He looks at her, is unsure whether or not he should, knows, feels, that she is plenty wet, but this has been a long dormant experience for both of them and he would hate to think she's pushing herself beyond her body's limits simply because he can't control himself from the occasiona twitch within her.

"Please, Robin," Regina implores, rotating her hips in a circular motion.

_Well, then._

He doesn't start pounding into her. No, he starts slowy; deep thrusts in, pulling out to the tip, then forcing himself back in. She starts to meet him every push, bucking up against him in time.

He adjusts himself, has his hands on either side of her head, propped up so he can go even deeper, and once he hits that sweet spot within her walls, his speed picks up.

And endless parade of moans bubble from Regina, her hands raking into the skin of Robin's back, down to his bare ass, as the two start to rut against one another.

Regina hoists her legs over his lower back, slightly changing the angle at which they are situated in, but it's better, has Robin rubbing up against her clit with every motion his pelvis makes, has her crying out, almost blowing out his eardrum with the sheer volume.

He increases the pace, again, and, _oh, fuck,_ this is it. She has to come soon, because he cannot possibly restrain himself any longer. Not when his blood is pulsating beneath his skin, his head filling with dizziness, his hips stuttering as her heat contracts around him, barely, at first, then stronger and stronger with every push.

"Come with me," She mutters into his ear, and, shit, he maybe could've lasted a minute or two longer, but not when her sex-induced voice is swimming through the small space between them and she's tipping over the precipice of her pleasure.

Robin crashes into his climax, spilling into her as a strangled cry chokes him, wave after wave of intense euphoria wrenching throughout him.

He rests his forehead against hers as they share the same oxygen, both desperately trying to slow their heart rates.

"Wow," She breathlessly comments and he can only nod, his skin stroking her own.

He sits up, gently pulling out until he can pinch the top of the condom, rolling it off, and tying it up before Regina wordlessly directs him to the adjoining bathroom so he can dispose of it.

When he comes back, she's still lying the way he, momentarily, left her. Her legs parted, her hair fanned out against the pillow, her naked form gloriously shining in sweat and moonlight from the large window in her bedroom.

He collapses beside her, doesn't dare to look at her as he closes his eyes and asks, "Was that okay?"

She laughs out loud, then, finally rolling onto her side so she can face him, playfully slapping his chest with her open palm, "You just gave me three orgasms, Outlaw! How can you even ask that?"

Robin sheepishly shrugs and finally brings his eyes to lock onto hers, "Well, one has to make sure you're happy, Your Majesty."

"Quite," She responds, "And exhausted. So, you better go."

_Oh_.

"Of course," He says, tries to ignore the pain that lances through his gut as he lifts himself off of the bed, searching for his discarded clothes. _This is not a relationship, Locksley. There's no post-sex cuddling or after-orgasm pillow talk._

Regina sits up, observes him as he dresses and, dammit, she's making it hard for him to leave when skin is flushed, her hairline is damp, and a smile is marking her lips - the lips he had kissesed an uncountable amount of times that night.

"So," He starts, and why is this awkward? "Now that you''ve used and abused me, will I still receive my late night texts?"

He expects her to laugh, to toss a witty comeback his way, but, instead, she slumps back into the pillows and avoids his eyes.

_Ouch_.

He pulls his shirt over his head, ready to leave, safe for his shoes, which are in the living room.

He walks to the side of the bed she's closest to, ducking down and placing a lingering kiss against her forehead, breathing in her scent, which is now mixed with their scent, before he mutters goodbyes and leaves the apartment.

And leaves Regina Mills.

* * *

As Robin gets back to his house, it's near 4 a.m., the neighborhood dead to the world, encased in pitch black silence, short of a few early-rising birds that are chirping in the tree in front of his house.

He struggles with his keys, keeps forgetting to fix the damn porch lamp, so now he is left with no illumination to assist him as he digs in his pockets.

He finally locates them, opening the door with a tad more difficulty, but manages to stumble inside, anyway. Only to be assaulted by Will's voice in the darkness of their home.

"I have me gun!" His heavily accented voice (_and there are sometimes, like now, when Robin appreciates his parents moving away from the rest of their family, in Derby, England)_, "Ya better not make no sudden movements, a'right?!"

Robin fumbles with his hand against the wall until he finally discovers the living room's light switch, flicking it on - to find his cousin, in nothing but his boxers, holding out a cannister of whip cream, as if it is a weapon.

"Robin! Bloody hell!" Will curses, running his free hand over his face, "Ya 'bout scared me half to death!"

"That makes two of us," Robin jests, gesturing towards the lack of clothing his younger relative isn't wearing, "And, a gun? Really? You're lucky it was just me or you would've had to call Ana down to protect you."

"That may've been a bit hard. Ana is indisposed 'ight now," Will replies, a sly smirk swiping over his lips and Robin groans.

"Oh god."

"Could ya hear us from outside?"

"For God's sakes, no!" Robin barks, then adjusts the volume of his voice, remembering his sleeping son upstairs - and hoping Will and Ana had to, "How was Roland tonight?"

"Ana said he was a right joy, as usual," His cousin answers, squirting some whip cream directly into his mouth, "Only found out 'bout that when Phil had to drive me home. Where'd the hell did ya go?"

Robin shakes his head, and goes to head up the stairs to bed, but Will catches his arm. "Ya were with the lover girl, weren't ya?!"

"William," He groans, pulling his arm free of his cousin's grasp, "I do not want to talk about this."

"Robbie finally got a good rodgerin'! 'Bout bloody time, mate!"

"I'm going to bed. Please keep you and your wife's.. activities as quiet as possible," Robin nearly begs as he begins to descend the stairs, Will following behind him.

"Ya'd know 'bout that now wouldn't ya!" He's chuckling as he slaps Robin on the back, "Or was she a quiet one? Ana's gotten bloody good at quietin' 'erself, but sometimes -"

Robin doesn't allow Will to finish his sentence, doesn't want to subject himself to nightmares when, he's sure, he'll have an otherwise very restful sleep. So he closes himself in his bedroom, cutting his cousin off as quickly as possible.

After taking a quick shower, washing off the aroma of the Shoppe, sex, and Regina Mills, Robin crawls into his bed, allowing a deep sigh to escape him as he relaxes back into the pillows, his mind traveling to the same place it has for the past two weeks.

His thoughts had been consumed by Regina before he even knew her name, how was he supposed to function normally, to block the images of her, now that he knows what she tastes like, feels like. How she lolled her head back when he would tease her erotic senses or how her lips almost turn white from her fusing them together she when she orgasms?

_How is he supposed to forget Regina?_

He had thought that doubts he was experiencing just before he and Regina slept together was his intuition's way of warning him, reminding him that she didn't want a relationship, though he could already feel himself falling for her. He had thought that that would be the worst case scenario, that she'd want to be friends and nothing more and he would just have to live with it.

But that wasn't the worst case scenario- _this is._

He'd rather have her in his life as a friend, than nothing whatsoever. Rather have the ache of knowing he'd never get to lavish her the way he thinks she deserves, not just sexually, but emotionally as well, than have the dull, throbbing pain of knowing he'll never see her again.

And, yes, he's stubborn, but he's maintained since they met that he would never force Regina into something she isn't comfortable with, and that includes him being in her life. He would not sacrifice her happiness, certainly not for his own. He is not Marian, he refuses to make decisions for the futures of others, alone, and solely based on his desires.

As he's about to roll over and chase some sleep, hoping that they involve Regina and her soft skin and softer hair, Robin's cellphone lights up on the nightstand. Furrowing his brow, he reaches over and unlocks the phone, seeing that he has a text message.

**-Next time I'll make us actual lasagna -and go down on YOU. :P**

Robin falls back against the pillows, an uncontrollable smile stretching across his face. He hasn't lost her from his life. If anything, she's seems unabashedly open and playful. He'll not cock this up, no. He'll be her friend, her sexual partner, and he won't let any feelings that may be stewing inside him affect that.

He types out a quick reply, the grin never leaving his lips as he does so, then lets the phone fall beside him on the bedsheet as he turns over to go to sleep.

**-Don't know what I'm more excited for, milady. ;)**

* * *

**(A/N: Two updates in me week! I'm actually pretty proud of myself. LOL. So, before I say anything else, THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of y'all who have been following, favoriting, reviewing, and, even just READING this story. It means so much to me and I hope y'all like what's to come in the following chapters because, yes, OQ may have had sex, but that's far from the end of the story. As for the sex, I am absolute RUBBISH at smut writing! *covers eyes* I wish I was as incredible as some of the OQ writers on here, like my HELLA TALENTED friend Zoe (y'all should know her as mysterious-song, and if you don't, GO! READ! NOW! You will not regret it!) who is a smut QUEEN, but I hope I did a decent job and that y'all continue to read, cause it really makes my day. I hope to update AGAIN, very soon. This is my favorite fic to write. :D)**


	7. Chapter 7

Regina isn't sure how a week has passed since her night with Robin.

She can still recall waking up last Sunday, sated and sore- very sore, muscles throughout her entire body, that had been long dormant, having had been exerted with the utmost peaks of physical pleasure- and annoyed by an incessant rapping on her apartment door.

She had eased herself out from under the cool and comfortable embrace of her bed sheets, had winced, then grinned, as her legs had joined together, a pleasant ache shooting out from the apex of her thighs. She had reached for her phone on the bedside table, where it's usually located, but, of course, too preoccupied by a certain Outlaw, his bare chest, his roaming hands, his talented tongue, she had turned it off and had tossed it beside her in bed, had been too laxed and legless with her post-orgasmic haze to make any extra effort after she had sent one last text to Robin before she had succumbed to sleep.

So, without checking her phone (which she later had found riddled with missed calls and text messages), she had thrown on undergarments, black leggings, and a t-shirt (one of her few graphic-designed prints that says 'But First Coffee...', an appropriate shirt for that morning), before she had opened the door and had found one Greenlee Bell, a seething one at that.

"What the hell, Regina? I waited over an hour for you!" Green had hissed angrily as she had passed Regina and barreled into the apartment.

Regina remembers her face had then twisted into a grimace as she had recalled, all too late, that Sunday she had been supposed to meet her friend for brunch.

"I called your phone a dozen of times, texted you, emailed you, and nothing! I was scared half to death!" The blonde scolded, had then whapped her former high school classmate on the arm, "I finally called Mal who said I shouldn't bother you, something about you being 'bent over backwards' last night and that you probably need your rest."

Green had appeared positively befuddled, of course, with good reason, as she hadn't yet known about Regina's sexual escapades from the night prior- though Mal's teasing terminology to an unsuspecting Green had certainly been an overstatement.

Regina had groaned, had walked past her, then, still smoldering friend, and proceeded to brew a K-Cup of dark roast coffee as Green had taken up residence at the breakfast bar and watched her with curiousity. "So are you going to explain to me what Mal meant, why you missed Sunday brunch, why-"

"I had sex," Regina had blurted out; she could, now, still picture Green's eyes stretching to the size of saucers, her mouth faltering, open and closed and open once more.

"Well, um, good?" Her had offered, combined with a well-meaning, but undeniably forced smile, "I had hoped that vibe would-"

"For God's sake, Green, do you really think I would make this big of a deal every time I masturbated?" Regina had snapped, an uncalled for response now that she looks back on it.

"You had sex with someone else? As in another _person_?" She had been about to throw a snarky comment at that ridiculous question when Green's eyes had gone even wider and a grin, an authentic, if not too superlicious for Regina's tastes, had developed across her thin lips, "The stripper?"

"Robin," She had corrected sharply, had not been sure where that particularly defensive surge had come from until she had heard Robin's voice be replayed in her mind._ "Allow me to show you Robin and not 'The Outlaw'."_

"I'm sorry," Green had displayed her palms, hands up in surrenderence, though her bowed head and vaguely veiled giggles had told Regina her friend had been anything but apologetic in that moment. She had cleared her throat (continuing to stifle her enjoyment, of that Regina is still sure), before she had asked, "And how was it?"

"Ugh," Regina had grumbled, then had turned her back, digging out various pans and setting them on a stove to a baffled Green asking what she had been doing. She had turned her head as she had glided over to her refrigerator and answered before she had pulled out several ingredients, "I'm the reason we missed brunch, so I'll cook it myself. I'm better than that old bat at the diner anyway, plus I'm too famished to have this conversation without sustenance."

"I'll bet," Had been Green's snickered response, one that had earned her a very pointed glare and an eyeroll, then Regina had started on doctoring up their omelettes.

Her pal had rounded the breakfast bar, had retrieved Regina's coffee from the Keurig before brewing her own (a sickeningly sweet French vanilla cappuchino blend that Regina keeps a few of for the frequenting friend), then had hoisted herself up and plopped herself down on a countertop caddycorner to where Regina had been cooking. _It's useless to argue, this is what Lysol is for,_ she had had to remind herself as she had eyed the lower half of Green's patterned romper as it had connected with Regina's quartz counters.

"So," The gymnastics instructor had drawled out, had exhaled exasperated when Regina hadn't supplied her with the fill to her blank, "How was it?"

_Incredible. Spectacular. Mind-blowing._

"It was... fine," Regina had, instead, shrugged, nonchalantly, as she had poured the egg mixture for Green's meal into the pan.

"'Fine'?" Had been repeated, disbelievingly, back to her and Regina hadn't dared to shift her stare from the stovetop, already had known the skeptical expression that dorned Green's face, especially as her friend had prodded, "And what exactly is this 'fine'?"

"Three 'fines' kind of fine," Regina had answered with a wince and a sheepish look up at Green, who must've decoded her poorly guised meaning for orgasm, as she had erupted in a shrill squeal. "_No_," The attorney had immediately objected, "This is not some 'When Harry Met Sally', 'Sixteen Candles', romantic comedy shit, okay? And if you treat it like it is, I will dump this," As she had pointed to the cooking eggs, "And will make you a delicious egg-white, spinach, and cottage cheese omelette with a side of oatmeal, in place of bacon."

Despite being an athlete, Green is nowhere near the health-conscious eater that Regina is, and the threat of a greaseless, fatless breakfast meal had been enough for her to seal her mouth in a petulant pout.

"Whatever," Green had mumbled, had licked her lips as Regina started frying up the turkey bacon, "So was it a one night stand?"

Regina had bit her bottom lip in response to the question, remembers how she had cocked her head from side to side in a non-verbal, non-commital answer, as she had finely chopped cherry tomatos and a bunch of basil leaves, then muttered, "I don't know."

"So you want to see him again?"

She had sighed, had been focused on tending to the food, "It's complicated, Green."

"Three, what are we calling them? 'Fines'? Doesn't seem very complicated to me," Her friend had smirked, then nudged Regina's leg with her foot, "Plus you said he was a nice guy, right?"

"He's..." Regina had begun, the words that had been on dancing on the tip of her tongue, words such as lovely, warm, and charming, seemed wholly inappropriate, not to mention ill-advised when talking to Green, a romanticist, "Yes, he's nice, but he also doesn't just want a fling. We wants us to be friends, we are friends. But he has a son and I-"

"Pause and rewind," Green had then demanded, her jaw slacked in surprise, "He has a child?"

For a smart woman, you can be stupendously stupid, Mills, Regina had berated herself as she had closed her eyes, had wallowed in her mistake for a moment, then sucked in a breath. "He told me last night. A son. Roland. Five."

"And you still had sex with him?"

Regina had swirled around to Green then, who had donned an expression of cautious observation, "I didn't realize being a single parent was suddenly so terrible."

The blonde had then thrown a glare in the brunette's direction, "You know that's not what I meant."

"What you meant is that he's a bad father because he had sex with me instead of finding a well adjusted woman open to an actual relationship," It had been a thought that had (and has occassionally since) crossed Regina's mind less than 24 hours beforehand when Robin had told her about his status as a parent. So Regina had parroted the Outlaw's words back to her disapproving pal, "He's a grown man. I didn't force him into anything and it's not as if he abandoned his child to-"

"Regina, stop, please," Green had removed herself from her station on the counter, had come up beside her scowling former schoolmate, "You are adjusted just fine and, I'm sorry, I'm sure Robin is great and whatever you two do is your business."

Regina had tore her gaze away from the brunch she had been preparing to study the woman in front of her, who had been bearing a genuine, apologetic smile, while her big, round doe eyes had conveyed the same sympathy and love they always do. She had placed a hand on Green's arm, a grin had lazily sprawled across her own lips, "It's okay; thank you for saying that, though."

"So, you and Robin," Green had resumed their conversation after a relieved sigh had left her mouth, "Is it a friendship, but with...?"

"Yes, friends with benefits, he has what you've always dreamed of with me," Regina had then cracked dryly and her friend had extravagantly rolled her eyes and kicked her leg out, had struck the other woman's hip, while Regina had squeaked out a mocked "ouch!"

"Hardy har-har," Green had sarcastically chuckled as Regina had added the tomatos and basil, as well as some shredded cheddar jack cheese, to their omelettes, "How does it work?"

"Well, Greenlee, when two people like each other-"

But her friend had swiftly interrupted Regina's mocking speech, with a groan, "Not what I meant. How does the whole 'FWB' thing work outside of a sitcoms? What did you do after?" That's when Regina had pinched her eyes shut and must have otherwise visibly tensed, because Green prodded with a questioning of her name.

Regina had sighed, had plated their breakfasts with a spatula, had avoided eye contact with her best friend when doing so, "I may have kicked him out."

"What?!" The blonde had screeched, bounced off the counter once more, and had refused to accept the proffered plate Regina had handed her way, "You kicked him out?! That poor guy.."

Regina's head had snapped up at that sentiment as she dropped (with a bit more force than than necessary- what had your china done to deserve that, Mills?) Green's dish onto the counter beside her, "A few minutes ago he was some stripper wasting his time not finding his son a mother and now you act as if he's a defenseless fox I ran over with my car."

"You are known as the 'Evil Queen', Regina," Green had reminded, to which the lawyer had scoffed, had carried her own plate and went to the small, square table that acts as a divider between her apartment's open kitche and living room layout, "I just know that you can come across a bit colder than you mean to sometimes, even outside of the office."

"And sometimes when I do 'mean to', dear," Regina had bit back, with narrowed eyes and a matching scowl as Green had joined her at the table.

Green had sighed, had quietly observed while her oldest pal had stabbed into her eggs and ripped piece by piece of bacon off with her teeth until she, must have, sensed Regina cooled off, then had asked, "Want to talk about it?"

"I acted like an ass, what is there to talk about?"

"Just tell me what happened," Green had softly encouraged with a small smile.

Regina had heaved out a breath, then had recanted every moment, every word of what had happened between her and Robin, while her friend had patiently listened until she had finished her retelling of Robin shutting the door to her apartment.

"You were afraid," Green's first words had been, to which Regina had vehemently shaken her head.

"I was not afraid," She had paused, had reflected on her actions and how to accurately describe her feelings, "It was more of an awkwardness, like I had no words."

Green had laughed out loud at that admission, had earned herself a glare from Regina, so she had managed to stifle her remaining giggles, "I'm sorry, but Regina Mills has never been speechless in her entire life."

"And that's why it was so foreign to me! I didn't know how to react. We had just had amazing sex, after I haven't had any kind of sex with another person since Daniel. And while we're not in a relationship, there is a friendship there, a caring. It was just.. confusing."

"If you were feeling guilty Regina, you shouldn't-"

"No, it wasn't guilt," She had been quick to amend and Green had nodded understandingly, though "Right" and the tight pressing of her lips had led Regina to think that her friend hadn't believed her rebuff, "I know that my heart is closed, I didn't betray Daniel, it wasn't about that. It was like I froze, I didn't know the procedure."

"'Procedure'? You make it sound so clinical," Green had chided as her nose had scrunched in unpleasantness, "You should have just experienced the glow of it afterward, it's not as if he's some stranger that'd steal your valuables when you went to the restroom- Right?"

"Right," Regina had confirmed with a roll of her eyes and then had swallowed another bite of her meal, "I should have thought about that aspect of it beforehand." She had groaned and dropped her fork onto her plate, then had scrubbed that hand over her face, "Ugh. Why didn't I think?"

"Oh you were thinking, just not with your brain," Green had ribbed with a smirk before she had shoved another sliver of bacon into her mouth.

"Have I ever told you that you're a terrible advisor?" Regina had teased in return and her friend had responded by petulantly sticking her tongue out, "I feel like I fucked everything up."

"By literally fucking," Green had joked again, then had pouted as Regina had proceeded to grab the last piece of bacon off of her pal's plate, "So have you talked to him?"

"It happened less than six hours ago."

"So there's been no call, no text-" At the word 'text', Regina had felt her face flush and she had ducked her head in an attempt to hide the physical manifestation of it on her cheeks. It'd been too late she had discovered when Green had audibly gasped, "There was something! What happened?!"

"It was nothing," Regina had tried to brush off, but Green had pratically been bouncing in her seat so Regina had released another deep moan of aggrivation and rested her forehead against her open palms with her elbows propped on the table, "I may have said next time I'd make him lasagna... And return a certain favor... of the oral variety..."

"Wow," Green had enunciated, her mouth popped open in a '0', her eyebrows lifted so high they nearly touched her hairline, "Talk about flying between the 150."

She has known Green long enough to recognize the gymnastic reference and she had lifted her head and nodded in agreement with it, "I was overcompensating. I mean, I have verbally demolished people before, but this was the first time I truly felt like the 'Evil Queen' without saying a word."

"And you wanted to do something to make it up to him and to yourself."

"Apparently," Regina had sighed, her appetite had disappeared as the words of her text had sprung back into her memory so she had then pushed her half-eaten omelette away from her, "At least he seemed responsive to it, so I didn't completely turn him off."

"I'm pretty sure that's never the reaction when they're promised a blow job, sweetie," Green had smirked at her.

"Less of the sass, dear," Regina had advised with a tight smile and her friend had giggled as she downed the last of her own breakfast, "Tell me what the hell to do."

"Just talk to him," Green had instructed breezily and Regina had scoffed at the simple suggestion, so her friend had stretched out her leg and lightly kicked her, "I'm serious! If you really want to continue this.. whatever it is with Robin, you have to explain to him why you acted like such a nut. Then you guys can decide how to act together. Well, when your mouth isn't full that is."

Regina had guffawed, then had stood to her feet and grabbed both their dishes, "Nice. And after I just filled _your_ mouth with your beloved fattening food, too."

"Hey! I know that was turkey bacon and not the real thing!"

The women had laughed and each enjoyed a second cup of coffee as they had discussed Green's own love life (Archie had called her, saying he misses her and that his conscience wouldn't let him live without asking for one more chance), as well as both of their jobs, before Green had left and Regina had busied her day with errands and some light housework, though it hadn't stopped her mind from remembering her romp with Robin periodically throughout her tasks.

Later that night, she had listened to Greenlee's guidance and had initiated one of she and Robin's text conversations.

**\- Hope you're as worn out as I was today. ;)**

**\- Indeed, milady. Though I'm happy to see my emojis being something else that rubbed off on you. ;)**

**\- "Something else", well aren't you cocky. ;)**

**\- I'm not the one who pointed out that I'm worn out.**

**\- OK, true. Are you willing to be worn out again next weekend?**

**\- Wouldn't dream of being elsewhere, Your Majesty. :)**

She had smiled at that particular response, had made pleasurable heat swell between her thighs and she had glided her fingers across the digital keyboard hastily.

**\- Bring your appetite. ;)**

**\- I don't think you'll ever have to worry about me having a lack of "appetite." ;)**

**\- For lasagna? ;)**

**\- For lasagna... And something else. ;)**

Regina had been about to reply with another flirty, seductive message, when her phone had buzzed yet again with a new response.

**\- Any big**_** Law &amp; Order**_** trial tomorrow for you?**

**\- LOL. No, should be an easy day tomorrow. Paperwork &amp; phone calls. Zzz.**

At least that's what Regina had originally anticipated, that is until Ella had blown into the workplace, her heels had slapped against the laminate floor as she had stomped past several lawyers' offices until she had reached the outside of her own, as Regina had observed the scene the unfold from the clear glass walls that surround her own cubicle. Ella had flung her shawl at her assitant, Isaac, while she had screeched, "Where is my coffee?! Is that not what you are paid to do?!", then had entered her own office and slammed the door shut behind her.

_Oh boy._

Isaac had appeared positively paniced and Regina remembers having to stifle her laughter at the almost comical expression of fear etched into his face as he had bolted from his seat, sprinting down the hall.

Regina had retrieved her phone from her purse and had typed out a quick group message to her gal pals- all except Ursula because it hadn't seemed appropriate to bitch about someone's lover being a bitch of their own. It had been an even more pertinent decision when after Regina's message (**\- What crawled up Ella's ass and died? Haven't seen her in this kind of mood since she first quit cigs**), Mary Margaret, ever the busybody had responded:

**\- Go easy on her, Regina. She and Ursula are having problems. :(**

Green's reply had vibrated into her inbox not a moment later.

**\- WHAT?! :0 :0 :0 :0**

**\- Yup. :( Ursula wants to get married and move back down to Florida where her family lives. Ella got upset about it and they had a big fight.**

**\- How the hell do you know this?**

**\- Ursula called me Sat. night in near tears. :'(**

Mal had finally popped up into the conversation, then.

**\- Why the hell would she talk to you and not us?!**

**\- I'm married, I understand the struggles of a long term relationship.**

Regina had rolled her eyes at that particular comment, then danced her fingers across the screen:

**\- You're not the only person in the world that's been in a relationship, dear. Just tell her we're here for them.**

**\- I don't think it was my business to tell you.**

**\- And yet you did anyway. Don't get holier than thou now, princess.**

Mal had replied before Regina had had the chance to, yet it had been exactly as she would have had responded and she had snorted with amusement.

She had abandoned her phone on the desk and had slowly pushed her chair back, stealing a deep, confidence-building breath as she had walked the path between her office and Ella's.

She had knocked on the door, had ignored the threatening shout of "Unless that's my god damn coffee, get the hell away from my door you sniffling little ingrate!", and had poked her head inside.

"Ella, are you alright?"

Whatever Ella had been furiously scribbling on had been forgetten, then. She had slammed the pen down onto her desk and her head had snapped up to meet Regina's. "What. Part. Of. Get. The. Hell. Out. Did. You. Not. Understand?" She had growled in a low, intimidating voice.

_Thankfully you're not easily intimidated_, Regina had then thought to herself.

"You seem upset," Regina had begun, had stepped further into the office, the only one in the building to have four, solid walls, "So I wanted to make sure-"

"Oh, cut the bullshit, darling," Ella had demanded with a roll of her eyes, "Who told you about Urs and I? That twit Mary Margaret?"

Regina probably should have defended her college classmate at that insult, but instead she had nodded. However, before she could interject a thought, Ella had abruptly stood from her seat.

"I should know better than to trust people by now, let alone this godforsaken, hideous ritual of 'love'. My mother had a hoard of husbands by the time I was an adolescent and yet allowed myself to be sucked into the same trap. Soon I'll be reaking of desperation and gin just like her."

"Ella, is marriage really so awful?" She knows she sounds too sickeningly similar to Mary Margaret, but it doesn't halt her thoughts from spilling out, "Take it from someone who would've loved to have been married to the person she loved-"

"Come off it, you pathetic little puppy!" Her friend had practically screeched at Regina, "Not everything is about you and your college boy toy's demise. If I don't want to get married that is my own bloody business and I will not be guilted about moving to another state by a woman who refuses to move on with her life!"

_Ouch_, Regina had thought after Ella's tirade had concluded. She had understood, deep down, that her colleague had simply been lashing out, had needed to be a bitch to Regina because she couldn't have been a bitch to her girlfriend. But, even though she had a grasp on the reasoning of the situation, that hadn't had stopped tears that prickled behind her eyes, nor the lump that had culminated in her throat.

It also hadn't stopped Regina from being a bitch right back.

She had straightened her spine, her lips at had flattened, and her stare had hardened as she bit out an insult of her own before she had vacated Ella's office with nothing, but a door slam and shoe thrown against said door, to be heard:

"You're too pale for Florida anyway."

The rest of the week had passed by without incident after that. Ella had apologized within a couple of days, had remained snappy and explosive in demeanor until every left on Friday, but in private conversations with Regina, she had admitted her fear that this step will change her relationship with her love too severely, confided that she had never pictured owning a dog much less become a parent, and how she had had fears that this would be fight she and Ursula could not come back from.

Regina had been as supportive as she could, all the while she had been evaluating her own relationship, or lack there of, with Robin. She had (and still does!) remained unsettled that she had yet to explain her atrocious behavior the past weekend, but her resolve to keep their bond, their friendship, nothing more than a combination of platonic and sexual strengthened with every word Ella had uttered.

Regina had love, her true love, already. If Ella and Ursula, one of the best couples she knew, could not make their relationship work, why the hell would anything less than her true love survive and thrive in her future?

Though she had enjoyed texting and talking with her "friend" each night after a long day of work and a longer day of handling her coworker's mood swings.

On Wednesday night, she had called him and after a half hour of talking, of venting to him about Ella, and, yes, in an attempt to find any subject that hadn't been her strange post-coital behavior, she had blurted out, "Do you regret your marriage?"

Robin had sucked in a breath on the other end of the line, but after a brief pregnant pause, he had given resolute (if not a bit sullen sounding), "No."

He had then expanded with, "I regret some choices I made, some signs I didn't see, but, no matter what I feel towards her now, there had been love there. And that love gave me Roland."

They haven't talked much about his son, Regina, now, thinks to herself. Wonders of, perhaps, after their talk tonight they will.

She remembers how she had smiled at his words, had admired the amount of fervent love he had spoken about his child, a contrast to the almost pained tone he'd use when he discusses his ex. The same tone that envelopes her own voice whenever she talks about Daniel. Showing how the loss, no matter how varying, of someone you love can affect you.

He had managed to chuckle, then, though. Had managed to bring a levity back to the conversation in a way that, somehow, he can always accomplish, "Where had that come from? Your friend's situation?"

"I suppose," Regina had sighed, remembers how she had been lying in her bed, her iPhone wedged between her ear and her shoulder as she had used her right hand to twirl her ring, Daniel's ring, around her finger, "I just don't understand not taking a chance on someone you love, no matter what happens in the future. Like you said, if you hadn't, you wouldn't have Roland."

"I concur, milady," Robin had murmured, but had surprised her as he had continued, "But I also believe in second chances. Love can come into our lives in different ways, you just have to open your eyes to see it. For me, it had been Roland. Perhaps for your friend it'll be another woman."

Regina recalls how she had managed to stutter out a "Seems unlikely that anyone could tolerate Ella like Ursula does", though her breath had hitched in her throat. Days later and his words still rattle around in her mind, unnerving her. She has been attached to the concept that her ability to love had died with Daniel, but, as strange as it is to admit, Robin is right; much like he has Roland, she has Green, and Mal, and, yes, even Mary Margaret. Maybe one day Robin one day would join the ranks of those friends, maybe he's already starting to.

But just as a friend, of course.

And just as she starts to mull over those musings, there is a soft rapping at her door. It's Saturday, after midnight, and she knows Robin has arrived- a night of promises she's made, to him, to herself, has arrived.

Regina opens the door, anticipation blooming in the pit of her belly, anticipation that is, for some reason, mildy relieved when she lays eyes on Robin.

He's standing there, dressed in jeans and a navy blue pullover, with his hair tossled and his smile bright. And clutching a brown paper bag in one of his hands.

"Your Majesty," He bows slightly, playfully, his grin, at first friendly and greeting, now impish with a seductive edge as his tongue peeks out, wetting his lips before he asks, "Can I come in?"

"It depends," Regina teases, arching one of her eyebrows and attempting to conceal her own amused smile, "What's in that bag?"

Robin reaches into the paper sack, revealing a bottle of whiskey, causing her eyebrow to rise, even further, in surprise. He shrugs and offers, "I was going to bring a bottle of wine, but figured that may a bit too friendly."

"So, whiskey?"

"I think whiskey contains magical properties, milady," He jests with a smirk and passes by Regina, entering her apartment after she steps to the side, gestering him in.

"Not the next morning it doesn't."

"It almost _is_ morning," Robin cheekily reminds of the nearing A.M. hour, as he turns around to face her. Regina rolls her eyes in amusement and concedes a "Good point", as she walks to the kitchen, retrieving two glass tumblers and handing them to Robin as he opens the whiskey.

"It smells scrumptious in here," Robin comments as he finishes pouring their drinks. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose and she imagines he's savoring the aroma of garlic, marinara, and bubbly cheeses wafting through the air of her apartment. He opens his eyes and picks up the two tumblers, handing her one, keeping his own as he smiles warmly (_Does he know any other way? Such a damn gentleman_, Regina muses, a sly grin contorting on her lips at the thought), "I can already tell you outdid yourself."

She chuckles softly, taking a generous swig from her glass, allowing the whiskey to pleasantly burn, then soothe, her throat, "Well, I did make you a promise for lasagna, didn't I?"

"Indeed," It's now Robin's turn to release his own throaty chortle as he accepts another nip from his drink and as Regina sees the rim of the glass slide between his supple lips, she's suddenly possessed to set her own back onto the counter and creeps her way closer towards him.

When she's standing in front of him, less than a foot of uninhabited space separating the two, she peers up at him through thick lashes and a thicker veil of confidence that she hasn't felt outside of work in a very long time. Her hand outstretches, slowly, yet deliberately, hooking a finger around one of his front belt loops. She tugs, inching him closer, closer, closer still, until their bodies are nearly pressed together and she can feel more than hear his sharp intake of breath. She hums, in this moment she feels desirable, sensual, even downright masterful.

"Do you remember the other promise I made you?"

"I vaguely recall," Robin clears his throat, his voice waivering as he places his half-drunk whiskey onto the counter.

Regina smirks at him, dropping her eyes as her fingers clumsily fidget with his belt, feeling less sexy than she had a moment ago, but she's relieved as the belt comes undone and she rips it away from his pants. A growl emits from low in Robin's throat and it has a bolt of arousal shooting through Regina._ You got this, Mills._

She curls a finger around his belt loop again, but now she is pulling him with her, like a dog on a leash, as he stumbles behind her at her feet, until they reach the sofa and Regina is pushing him down onto it.

He plops down from the weight of her shove with a thud and an oomph as he gazes up at her, befuddlement and mesmerization written on his face. Regina runs her tongue long her top lip, watching him as his eyes follow the movement.

She lowers herself to her knees, parting Robin's with her hands so she can situate herself between his legs. A sense of embarrassment, nerves, wash over her as she contemplates what she is now about to do.

It's not as if she's never gone down on a man before, she had certainly done it once or twice on Daniel, but it was never a routine part of their sexual relationship and adding a five year gap that was absent of any of those acts has her losing confidence in her abilities as she undoes the button on his jeans.

"Regina," Robin's voice, hoarse and choked, garners her attention, their eyes meeting, blue on brown, as he says, "You don't have to do this. It's-"

Hearing the word "have" seems to cancel out her performance anxiety as she finds herself place a finger against the seam of his lips, haltering his speech, "Outlaw, I don't do anything I don't want to do. You should know that by now."

His lips pucker, kissing her finger and she retracts it as he murmurs, "I just don't want you to think I was planning on holding you to some sort of promise made via a mobile message."

"Well I wouldn't have made the promise, in any sense, if I hadn't planned on following through. I don't break my promises."

"Neither do I, milady," Their voices have somehow lowered to barely audible whispers, the air around Regina suffocating her with the headiness of their tension in the room, the tension crackling between them as his eyes , unblinking, stay locked on her own.

She wrenched his pants and boxers past Robin's hips.

Regina's eye-to-eye with his erection, runs the tip of her tongue across her lip as she sees how hard he is without her touching him yet. He can't seem to remove his stare from her, his eyes burning her skin with intensity, her panties dampening further in her high-waisted shorts sparking a delicious friction with a small rotation of her hips.

But this isn't about her, not right now. No, it's about the man at her mercy, in her hand, as she encircles his shaft, and pleasing him.

Regina pumps Robin with her hand once, twice, a third time, must be using the right amount of pressure as he lolls his head backwards and grunts softly. A swell of satisfaction raises in her and, smirking, she ducks her head, her tongue abruptly poking out and doling out a generous lick up his cock. One that has Robin hissing out a breath.

Her hand, that has remained at the base must've squeezed too hard in the midst of focusing on her oral abilities because he jumps slightly. They both open their mouths, apologies hanging in the silence between them, but as he twitches in her hand, Regina decides to put her mouth to better use and allows the words to fall away as she envelopes his tip.

She tries not to overthink, instead acting upon instinct, her tongue alternating between whispers of teasing licks against his underside and playful flicks against the top of his hardened member, continuing to expand in size still, so Regina swallows him further.

She feels Robin's hand come to rest on the back of her head, his fingers weaving into her hair, not pulling or pushing, not forcing her in place, simply pulsating pleasantly against her scalp, but she stills nonetheless. She's not accustomed to a display of passion, no matter how miniscule it may appear. Daniel hadn't been very responsive during sex. His behavior in bed hadn't contrasted to his personality- benevolent and quiet, a quality Regina had found endearing about him.

But now that she's experienced unbridled touches, indecent exchanges, and immediate reactions to heated acts, she finds she appreciates, feels powerful, even, from Robin's sexual demeanor.

So as he attempts to remove his hand from her tresses, obviously mistaking her surprise for her being uncomfortable, she reaches behind her and holds him to her head, encourages him to renew his previous gentle grip.

Robin groans, his hips flexing as if indepedent from his body and as Regina hollows her cheeks, taking him deeper, she sneaks a peek at his expression, witnesses his eyes pinched, his lips quivering from how tightly he's pressing them together. He's losing a battle with his self-control and she cannot resist smiling (as much as she can in her current state), then purposefully swallows around him. She wants him to lose the battle, wants to make him feel as deliciously sated as he had for her last week.

"Regina," His voice is breathless, strained, and Regina would have thought he was in pain if she weren't aware of the situation. He repeats her name with a bit more urgency, trailing off into a deep-throated (_Ironic_, Regina quips inside her mind) moan, "_Reginaaa_.."

She knows he's close to coming, can feel how rigid his body has gone, how labored his breath has become, his hand scrambling in his hair, as if he's trying to get her to stop.

Well that's not happening.

Her hands find purchase on his hips, pinning him against the cushions, because though she appreciates his chivalrous attempt at preventing from finishing in her mouth and while, admittingly, she doesn't remember being particularly fond of the taste, thinks she may have possibly spat out Daniel's seed once or twice, but now her mouth suctions harder around his quivering member.

She tells herself that she wants him to come with her enclosing him for practical reasons- he shouldn't have to eat in soiled clothes, she doesn't want to risk her cenille sofa- but there's also a voice in her head (and a throbbing part of her in her nether regions) telling her she just wants, for some reason, _desires_ this.

"R'gina, 'm gon.." Robin slurs out and Regina braces herself, braces him, as swallows around him once more and that catapults him over the edge as he comes and comes and _comes_.

_Hmm_.

It's not as unpleasant of a sensation as she had anticipated, perhaps she's been misremembering her times before, and when she's done, she reclines back on her heels, feeling an acute ache already in her knees (_a less than sexy reminder that she's no longer a young co-ed_, she thinks bitterly), and wipes a hand across her mouth before peering at Robin.

He seems to be catching his breath, lying motionless before her, his chest heaving up, down, and up again, but there's a radiant smile, a satisfied smile, on his face and that's enough to have Regina carefully removing herself from her place on the floor and winking at him teasingly and then fluttering towards the kitchen with a, "Are you coming? Well, to the kitchen that is?"

She walks into the culinary space, glancing over her shoulder to see Robin, now standing, zipping up his jeans (_That was quick!_) and nibbling at his lower lip, as if trying to conceal a 'cat-that-caught-the-canary" style grin.

Oh no, _he_ is certainly the canary.

She proves her point by bending at the waist, knows that her ass is cupped like her shorts were sculpted around her body, and she can nearly hear him groan as she retrieves the lasagna from the oven and stands back at, placing it on the stove burners.

"Can I offer my assistance, milady?" Regina hears from behind her, not far behind her, almost walking straight into Robin's chest when she turns.

"Help yourself."

He shuffles an inch closer, his gaze dropping to her lips. Regina jets her tongue out and wets her lips, not unlike she had when she kneeling in front of him not long ago. He leans forward, his face a breath from her own...

When she feels his arm move beside her and, then, he is taking a few steps back, smirking as he hovels a stabbed forkful of lasagna into his move.

"That just came out of the oven, you'll burn the roof of your mouth," She scolds with a roll of her eyes and receives a nonchalant shrug in return.

"I'm used to eating between a four-year-old growing boy and a grown boy who acts like he's four-years-old, I'm used to eating quickly."

"How does that work? With your cousin, I mean. You've told me bits and pieces.."

She hands him a plate, holds onto one for herself, as he services their dishes (a small piece for him, a choice that she mimics, with a new heat blossoming in her core realizing the food is only secondary to her for him) as he explains, "Well, splendidly, actually. When he isn't goading my nerves, of course." She chuckles, eggs him on to do so as well, then he shakes his head, returning to the subject, "I almost bludgeoned him with a whipped cream canister last week, when I left here."

_Time to eat your crow, Mills._

"About that," She begins as they sit down at the table, Robin apologizing as he interrupts her to tell her that the delectable smell of the pasta had not even done it justice, with words like "delicious", "outstanding", and "bloody fantastic" pouring from his mouth.

Regina thanks him with a smile some would describe as cocky, she knows how talented she is in the kitchen and refuses to behave as if she doesn't, and she insists that he take the rest home for himself and his family, before she continues with her long-brewing apology.

"I want to say I'm sorry for last week, how you left," She tries to maintain eye contact, but folds beneath the embarrassment she feels in her phrases, in her actions. Green had helped her sort through the reasons why she "pumped and dumped" Robin last week (those had been Mal's words who had not been nearly as helpful), now she just hoped she could make Robin understand, "I shouldn't have thrown you out without a word. Hell, you even asked me a question and I blatantly ignored you."

"It was the first time for this, us, me. And I don't know if I hadn't expected the sex to be as good as it was, or if I had anticipated the sex, but not the role our friendship would play afterwards. I just felt awkward and I acted childishly and closed up, instead of talking to you and I'm sorry."

It's silent in the room, Regina starting to fear that maybe he's rethinking their arrangement, rethinking her.

"Well, I think this is our second chance," Robin suddenly says, has Regina's head snapping up to meet his stare and her expression must mirror the confusion swimming through her, because he smiles, placing his fork down on his half-eaten lasagna, then stands to his feet, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her own, "We have a second chance, right here, right now, to both handle this situation better."

Regina can't resist grinning as she stares at his jubilant expression and she pretends to consider the offer, then laughs softly, "Alright, Outlaw, prove to me that second chances exist."

"I intend to."

Robin, her hand held firmly in her, leads her away from their forgotten meal, leading her to her bedroom.

When they reach their destination, Robin swivels around on her, yanking her up against him until their foreheads are touching and their respective breaths are mingling and Regina is reaching up and connecting their mouths in a passionate kiss that is more tongue and teeth than lips.

Robin retracts first, his fingers gliding down sides, sending shivers through her through her clothes, until he reaches the hem of her blouse and hauls it up over her head as he speaks, informs, "From now on, when we have nights like these, I will assume to always leave after we finish."

He bends, begins trailing suckling kisses from the juncture of her collarbone, down her sternum, until he reaches where her bra impedes his path. Not one to wait on anyone, Regina unsnaps and removes her lacy lingere herself, tossing it onto the floor and moaning as Robin's mouth resumes it's movements, now kissing the swell of her bosom, dragging his lips to lick the perimeter of her nipple, teasing, torturing, with sensation. He gently bites at her erect nub, while his hand pays attention to her neglected breast, drawing a breathy "_Robin, please"_ from her.

"Unless you ask me to stay, I'll say 'Have a good night', you can say 'Thank you for rocking my world, Robin'," He jests and a giggle erupts from the haze of arousal clouding Regina and Robin kisses her abdomen, dipping his tongue into her belly button and she gasps.

He unbuttons her shorts, slipping them down her legs (_And, oh god, it's not the only thing slipping right now_) and his face is so close to her sodden panties, to where she's hot and desperate to be touched, but she's grasping his collar and reeling him up, then pushing him back to the bed.

She shakes her head, kicking her panties off as she mumbles, "No I nee-" She silents herself before she can utter the word "need", because while her body is saying, _screaming_, something to the contrary, she does not need this man.

But, fuck, she _wants_ him.

She climbs ontop of him, her legs on either side and when the hell did he undress? Oh it doesn't matter when he is hard, oh so hard, for her, after coming only less than an hour ago, and rubbing against her warm, moist core.

"Condom," Robin groans as Regina continues to ride against him and she drops forward, her forehead on his shoulder as she pants and bemoans, suddenly pissed at human genetics and an aray of other statistics that require the need for an extra barrier between his thick cock and, hopefully, her orgasm.

She hurriedly untangles herself from their position, retrieving his jeans and a condom that's squeezed between his wallet and pants pocket.

Once his erection, pulsating with a craving as dire as her's it appears, is sheathed, she straddles his muscular figure once more, his mouth catching one of her nipples as she's bent forward and she grips his shoulders, nails burying into his skin.

"Are you wet for me?" Robin rasps against her chest and she almost cries out, as if a fever is radiating through her, how the hell could he even ask, she's been soaked since she brought him to climax earlier.

Regina thrusts herself against him, more than once with the friction too wonderful to deny, as she husks in his ear, "Can't you feel that I am?'

He groans from the depths of his throat and spurs Regina on, has her guiding him to her and sinking down, slowly, savoringly, until he is encased deep within her and just being filled as Regina trembling atop him.

Robin's hands find purchase on her hips, guiding their movements as she starts a fluid up and down, riding him and gaining in speed with every kiss of their pelvises. Oh, this is different than last time. Last time was exploratory and slow, this is raw and rough and she _loves_ it.

She feels it tingling in her veins, as if it's building from her toes and rising up through her body, feels her inner walls contracting around Robin, fluttering with impending release. She starts to bounce harder, faster, grateful for his hands keeping her steady as they massage the tops of her thighs, circle her hips, then grab her ass, holding her closer, has him knocking up against her most sensitive spot inside.

One of his hands, though, come her front, parting her folds and finding her clit and as he starts a furious pace, switching between flicking and rubbing, she is suddenly flung into her climax, writhing and writhing, coming with sweat sticking to her skin and lights flashing behind her eyes and Robin surrendering to his own burst of pleasure, with her name tumbling from his lips.

Regina rolls to the side, wincing at the separation of herself and Robin, but feels fully sated and utterly spent, laying heaving on the duvet cover, wiith her core still vibrating with the aftershocks of gratification.

Robin starts to stand up, but she doesn't want him to go, not yet, not now, so she swings an arm out, slapping against his bare chest, and says, "Wait."

He smiles down at her, fully seated now, bends down to her and placing a quick kiss to her nose, "I have to get rid of this and I'll be back." Oh, the condom, that's right.

He returns to the bed, jumping beside her, swiftly, chuckling as he exclaims, "I'm starting to wonder why I haven't been doing that in four years." Regina giggles, propping herself up on her side to face him as she agrees with a nod of her head.

They stare at one another for a moment before she cracks into the tranquility, murmuring, "Thank you. For acting as if, what I told you, was no big deal, for understanding, for- well, the orgasm."

Robin chortles, adds a ridiculous "At your service, Your Majesty" with a tip of his head, but soon sobers, "This is new territory for us both. We'll figure it out."

Regina hums concurrently and closes her eyes with a smile stretching across her lips as he kisses her forehead, then that smile, and stands off of the bed, as she watches him dress.

She feels a stab of guilt, wonders if maybe this scene is too domestic for someone she has no feelings, can never have feelings, for, but her fears are abated as he suggests, "As far as our friendship, one of your worries from before, I have a proposition for you."

Reigna raises her brow, fixing Robin with a pointed look as she says, "I don't do blood oaths."

He laughs again, him being the one to roll his eyes in amusement at her this time, as he proposes, "Monday is Memorial Day so tomorrow, well, today," he amends due to their late hour, "I'm having a barbeque at the house. Some of my mates, who you probably know as their absurd nicknames from the club, are coming, it'll just be a casual, fun day that we typically end by roasting s'mores over the fire pit."

"Are you trying to bribe me with chocolate?"

"I'd assume _I'd_ be incentive enough, but whatever gets you there is fine by me," He teases, humor sparkling in his eyes, "You can even bring some of your other friends if a backyard full of men arguing over the best way to grill a burger seems a tad intmidating."

"I'm not intimated by anything," She insists with an indignant smirk, a bold-face lie if there ever were one, "I'll come. Can I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. Perhaps a dozen more of those lasagnas."

She notices he's fully dressed and she grins, reminds him to take the remaining pan of lasagna from tonight with him and he obiges, thanks her again and rotates back to her before he exits her room, his words echoing as promise as he says, "I''ll see you tomorrow, milady."

As soon as she hears the door close, Regina blindly reaches for her phone on the bedside table, grasping it in her hand.

"Malese," She enunciaties into the iPhone speaker, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, her free hand tapping against her sheet-covered thigh as Mal's number is displayed on the screen before her.

"Unless you are literally on fire," A sleepier version of her friend's voice growls through the receiver, "I am going to incinerate you for this."

Regina rolls her eyes at the defense attorney's exaggerations, "I'm sorry for waking the dragon, but I need a favor."

"You wake me up at," There's a pause, followed by an aggrivated groan, "3:30 in the damn morning and you expect me to do you a favor? You have finally lost what little sense you had left."

"Robin just left-"

Mal interrupts her before she can finish her thought, scoffing, "Yes, rub it in that you got your headboard, among other things, banged against the wall tonight and I didn't- another spectacular way to butter me up, Reg."

She forgot how irritable her former roommate can be when unexpectantly awoken, still remembers the blonde in a beasty mood, as she had been sleeping, coming down from a night of partying, threatening to "feast on her bones like chicken" when Regina had called her past midnight the early morning after Daniel's death. But as soon as she had heard her pal's strangled sob, Mal had sobered quickly, had been the practical person that she could depend on. Not that Green and Mary Margaret hadn't been supportive, both had taken their turns holding her as she had cried, but they're emotional themselves- all speeches of hope and insistance on love. Mal on the other hand, had- and possesses, still- a more detached approach. Which is what Regina needs now.

"Robin invited me to a barbeque at his house tomorrow, well, today, really," She amends, reminding herself of the late hour, and further explains, "I want you to come with me. Please, Mal."

"Marvelous, a prime spot for me to char you to a crisp for waking me up at this ungodly hour," But, despite Malese's sarcastic quip, Regina's plea must resonate on some level because she is huffing out a sigh of reluctant compliance and mumbling, "And what the hell is in it for me?"

"Robin's friends are all invited- including dancers from the Body Shoppe. Strippers in summer heat with no cover charge."

There's a moment of silence and, for that hesitation, Regina frets that she'll be given a rejection, already starts mulling over her other options, when Mal's voice comes alive over the line again. "I'll pick you up at 4:30- daylight hours," She stresses, tacks on, "And make those mini apple pies. The guys can't be the only dessert."

Regina chuckles, rolling her eyes at her man-eating confidante's suggestive suggestion and Mal abruptly ends the call before she can hear Regina's correction,

"They're apple turnovers."

**(A/N: Firstly, this chapter is dedicated to the AMAZING authors of two of my FAVORITE OutlawQueen AU fics, who not only instill an incredible envy of their skills in me, but who have both been SO supportive of me, and this fic, from the beginning: OQSeason3B ("Where There's A Will There's A Way") and AsYouAre ("Study Hall". And whom I am collaborating with a new OQ AU called "Stand By You"). I threw in a little shout out to them in the fic. ;) And PLEASE go read all of their wonderful work if you have yet to.**

**Secondly, I'm SO sorry this update has taken so long. Not only was it a long chapter, but August and September have just been crazy busy months. Hopefully I will churn out chapters quicker now, though! Also, I'm still trying to get the hang of smut writing, so hopefully this was alright!**

**And, as always, I am astonished by the amazing, continued follows, favorites, reviews, and just general support for this fic. Y'all have NO idea how much it means to me every chapter, so hopefully y'all stick around for this chapter and more to come. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like quite enough, in return. Much love to you all.**

**Most importantly: HAPPY ONCE UPON A TIME DAY! Here's to, I pray, a fantastic season! :D)**


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